Fellblood
by slightlytragic
Summary: Robin was Grima. To Lucina, this left one choice.
1. Fellblood

_Fellblood_

Robin thought himself a man of intelligence and rationality. After all, he was the Grandmaster of Ylisse for a reason; he most certainly hadn't gotten in on good looks or a charming personality. It had been his calm reasoning and tactical thinking that had gotten him a job, make no mistake. It was this same supposed genius mind that was now racing, realizing truths he had hoped to escape; lies he had wished were honest.

His father… no, Validar, he had some means of controlling him, of this, he had found out the hard way. The Fire Emblem was gone, the fight almost lost. Validar would resurrect the Fell Dragon, Grima, and the world would become raptured in blood and chaos. All because of Validar. All because of Grima.

And, Robin realized;

All because of him.

Part of him wanted to reject any responsibility. It wasn't his fault that he had been molded into nothing but a vessel. He cannot help that Validar shared blood with him. Robin was dealt a bad hand, could he really be to blame for that?

Yes, he realized. Yes he certainly could.

He'd seen it in the eyes of his friends. Frederick's, cold and furious. Cordelia's, betrayed utterly. Sully's, burning with a desire for vengeance. Virion's, questioning and melancholy.

Lissa's, with only fear.

Chrom's, with only rage.

All directed toward Robin.

No one spoke to him, no one acknowledged him. He knew the look in their eyes only from glances at their stares, when they thought he hadn't noticed. They would immediately turn away, look forward and marching ahead, as though he were nothing more than some unpleasant thought.

For the first time since he had woken up in that field, nearly five years ago, Robin felt utterly and completely alone.

So, the second they had made camp, Robin was off. He'd ran, making sure not to be followed, running until he had gotten far enough away. A small field, some thirty minutes from the camp. The gentle breeze against his face, the melting sun as it set low in the sky, all of it was serene. He sat for a moment, simply watching the grass blow in the wind, lost in thought.

He would be the instrument of everyone's demise. He would be the fire to baptize the world.

He thought back to his past with the Shepherds, who had taken him in with open arms. Whether it was Lissa's playful pranking, Frederick's militaristic code of discipline, Sumia looking after them, or Chrom simply helping him to his feet whenever he would fall down, they were Robin's family. Not Validar.

Yet now, it would seem this was no longer the case. Robin knew why, he understood why, but damn. It hurt. It hurt, seeing eyes filled with love now only bearing disdain, disgust even.

He couldn't blame them. He was Grima.

And as his hands wrapped around his blade, he reminded himself of this.

He was Grima.

His blade lifted, pointed to his chest.

He was Grima.

He saw flashes, memories of his friends… no, his family. He could do this. He could do them one last service.

He was Grima.

His mind wandered over everyone he had come to know, until it landed on the one person he had been the most reluctant to think of.

He was Grima.

He had been the one to take her father from her. He had been the one to take everything, to leave her with only her sword and a desperate people begging her for help.

He was Grima.

As his sword fell, his lost thoughts were of her, his blade coming closer and closer to his chest, only thinking of the woman who had become his dearest friend.

_I'm sorry, Lucina._

He was Robin.

His blade paused, a mere inch from his chest. He dropped it to the ground, it clattered away as he sat there, quietly suffering. He needed to die, his loved ones needed him to die. He knew that clearly and without question. So, why was this so hard?

He knew he was Grima, but when he thought to all of his fondest memories with all of his loved ones, he couldn't help but feel differently. He was Robin.

But, that changed little. He was still dangerous, his mere existence a threat to everyone he loved.

For them, he reminded himself, For her.

He fell to the ground, endlessly frustrated. Chrom's look of rage, Lissa's look of fear, Frederick's look of fury, all of it embedded into his mind. He had nothing more to live for anyway, he decided.

Yet before he could stand to collect his blade, he became aware of someone approaching him. A glance confirmed it was the last person on the planet he wanted to see. Falchion at her hip, hands behind her back, she moved with purpose before stopping a few feet away. He forced himself to turn forward, knowing full well that the look in her eyes would be what broke him.

"Lucina," he said, tentatively. Despite not looking directly at her, he could sense her tightening up in his periphery. He was only met with silence.

"It's funny. I used to speak often of how I would do anything to regain my lost memories. Now, I think I would do anything to forget," he said, smiling forlornly, "But no matter, what are you here for?"

His question went unanswered. For a time, he simply sat in silence while she stood by him. Finally, he sighed and turned his head to see her face.

The look in her eyes was something that would haunt him. They were so beautiful, but they held only disgust, betrayal, and fury. This, mixed with her otherwise blank face, a hand resting on her blade's hilt tightly, and her tense shoulders all screamed one thing to the experienced tactician.

Danger.

Robin laughed sadly, "I suppose you arrived at the same conclusion I did? You did say Chrom had been betrayed by one of his closest friends, and now you've seen how."

Lucina's grip tightened, her face now struggling to maintain its blank expression. He could tell by the tightening of her lips, the twitch of her nose.

"...I'm the one who doomed your future, Lucina. The one who kills Chrom, the one who ensures the rise of Grima," Robin said, struggling to maintain eye contact. She was silent still, for several moments, before finally, her face couldn't keep up the mask she had tried wearing.

"You are Grima! You took everything from me! My father, my mother, my kingdom, my friends! They're gone because of you!", she said, malice in her voice. The Brand of the Exalt seemed to glow in her eye, as she drew Falchion from its sheath.

"No more. Not again. Never again. I would do anything to protect my father, anything to protect the future. If your life means a future without Grima, even if it simply reduces the odds of his rise, you must not be allowed to live," her voice was stern, cold, and angry. Robin could feel himself die inside, the feeling only growing stronger when he found himself agreeing with her. Slowly, calmly, he rose to his feet.

"You were my friend, Lucina. Whatever judgement you render, I will accept. But please, can you offer me one favor?"

The tip of her blade was pointed at him now, her silence returning.

"Please, tell Chrom… tell everyone I'm sorry," her silence did not waver. She gave a short, terse nod.

"Thank you," Robin gave a sigh, turning out to face the setting sun. There were worse ways to go, he decided.

He made to take in a deep breath when he felt it. A blade, piercing through his back, ribs, one of his lungs, before exiting through his chest, now covered in his blood. His breathing hitched, any words he might have had caught in his throat as he tried and failed to intake air.

The last thing he became aware of in the waking world was Lucina's beautiful face in his periphery, tears threatening to fall as she did her best to face him, to look him in the eyes. He saw all of her pain now, her sadness.

The last thing that the Grandmaster Robin would ever hear would be her soft voice in his ears, a whisper that struggled to even get out the words.

"I'm sorry, Robin."

Then, Robin embraced the nothingness of death.


	2. Awakening

_Awakening_

Lucina's two decades of life had made a long standing habit of dealing bad hands to her. Indeed, she had encountered enough hardships to last her several lifetimes. She lost her mother, her father, most of the people she had looked up to and idolized, her friends and family, her people and her kingdom. She had stared Death in the eyes and had left it wanting. She had stood before the Fell Dragon itself, and had never once wavered.

And yet, she would endure all of these trials a thousand times over to stave off the pain from what she had just done.

She had done it. She may have saved her father, the Shepherds, perhaps even the world.

But to do so, she had killed her greatest reason to save it.

She carried the Grandmaster's lifeless body in her arms. Part of her had wanted to just run away, terrified by the idea of what everyone's reaction would be. By what her father's reaction would be, specifically. Yet, she knew that the Shepherds deserved better. Her parents deserved better. Even if they would hate her, which would be understandable to her. Hell, in truth, she hated herself.

She... she wasn't certain of much. Emotions were something she often struggled to express, it wasn't irregular for her to get confused on how she felt about certain things. But, she knew very well how she had felt toward Robin.

He had been her best friend, but she knew well why her cheeks would flush when he said her name. Why she would always get giddy and excitable at something as small as their hands brushing.

She knew she had fallen in love. She hadn't even known she was capable of such a thing, yet one man had changed that. One man had opened her heart and her eyes to love. One man had changed her entire perception, and had never even realized he had done so.

And she had killed him.

She wept silently while she could, carrying her love's body close to her chest as she walked back to the camp. She knew reactions would be mixed, and she knew that she would likely be forced out of the Shepherds, and she accepted it. In truth, there was little they could say that would hurt her. If they called her a murderer, a monster, so be it. She was already aware of what she was.

A friend-killer. Nothing more.

But she had done what was necessary. She had sacrificed her love and her soul, because there was no other way. It was Robin, or the world. She had only chosen what was good for the most people, right?

There was the seed of doubt. The seed of regret. She had felt it the moment her blade had ran him through, her mind instantly wishing he had stopped her. That he had shown her another way. The worst part of it, to her, was his acceptance. The tactician was far smarter than she could ever be, his acceptance only proved to her that this was the only way.

Because it was the only way, wasn't it? It had to be.

She pushed her remaining fears down, bidding them silent as she marched. She was close to the camp, she tried to regain her composure. She tried not to consider how lost they might be without their tactician to guide them, how he had effectively singlehandedly won two brutal wars for Ylisse with his strategies. She focused only on wearing her emotional mask, so no one would see the turmoil she was in. Only the strong front.

She would need it, for what was soon to come.

"Shepherds! Someone's coming!" A voice, most likely Stahl, drew her attention. She had been spotted.

She saw the men and women all rush to arms and into formation, centered around Chrom. Her father raised an arm in the air, recognizing Lucina as she drew closer. She saw his eyes widen, seeming panicked as he realized what she was carrying in her arms. As he rushed forward, all of the Shepherds followed, realization dawning on all of them as well. They ran quickly, battle reflex kicking in for some of them. Frederick, and cavaliers Stahl and Sully formed a lose formation behind Lucina, all holding shields and lances at the ready, intending to cover her flank from attack. Donnel, Gregor, Gaius, Vaike, and Panne all moved into a vanguard formation surrounding her, intending to protect her from attack no matter the direction.

"We are not under attack! No enemies are coming," Lucina's voice was shrill compared to its usual smoothness, betraying more weakness than she would have liked. The Shepherds instantly abandoned formation, gathering around Robin as she laid him to the ground. Lissa tore forward, trying to run to the tactician's body before being caught by a strong, yet gentle hand. Lon'qu pulled his wife into him, knowing she could do nothing for one of the swordsman's closest friends. The swordsman was no stranger to death, he knew a corpse when he saw one. Lissa wept into his chest instantly, his glare into space was piercing, seething.

"What... what happened?" Chrom's voice was small, pained. He tore his eyes away from the man that had been his brother, looking over to Lucina, who stood silently, her face completely blank. Almost instantly, he saw her bloodied Falchion. He made the connections faster then he would have liked.

"Y-you...? Lucina, you did this?"

"I did what I had to. To protect you. To protect everyone," her voice sounded firm, but her eyes couldn't leave Robin's face. Chrom stayed silent for a moment, a hell that stretched for an eternity to Lucina. His shoulders tensed, his fists clenched. Beyond him, she could make out the shocked faces many of the others had donned in her periphery. Lissa stared at her, tears rolling down her face. Lon'qu's gaze was piercing, even when she didn't meet it eye to eye. She had never seen such a look in his eyes before, not even in fights. It was fire, raging and vengeful.

Yet, when her eyes finally met her father's, she much preferred Lon'qu's anger.

Chrom, for the first time that she had ever seen, looked utterly defeated. His mouth moved, but he could not produce any words. His fists clenched and unclenched, his shoulders tensing. He wanted to speak, she could tell, but he was incapable. Yet, his eyes said it all. Heartbreak, anger, sadness, rage, confusion, betrayal; he was a whirlwind of emotion that could not seem to center itself long enough to express any of them. He fell to his knees, one hand clutching the sleeve of Robin's coat.

"Everyone?" The voice came from behind her, hard as steel. Lucina turned around to meet Frederick's cold stare, "You may well have doomed us all. If anyone could have found a solution, one that would have saved us all, it was Sir Robin. He… had gained my respect, as well as my trust. He was a good man," his edge faded now, his voice becoming more sad than angry.

"He... he attacked Chrom. He stole the Fire Emblem and gave it to Validar. He had no agency in the matter, but he was merely a weapon. Nothing more," Lucina did her best to make her voice as dead as possible, betraying none of the anguish she truly bore at the very idea of what she was saying. Frederick made to respond, his face twisted with anger, but another voice cut him off.

"He was my friend, damn you!" The tone of the voice made her flinch, turning around to meet the eyes of the Feroxi swordsman marching toward her. His stare was still filled with unmatched fury, and his blade was drawn, though he made no move to brandish the weapon.

"He was my friend! He was _your_ friend! He was an innocent man who was just unlucky enough to be born to the wrong man. Your hands are tainted now, Lucina. Tainted with the blood of a good man," the swordsman's voice was dripping with venom. In truth, Lucina had no idea what to say to the man. She had expected this reaction from several people, but it seemed so unlike the typically reserved blade master.

"I-I'm sorry... I didn't want this, but it had to be done. He stood in agreement. He knew his death was the only way," she stumbled for a moment, but she was able to make her voice steady and her face blank, "I have seen the future. I know what will come about should the Fell Dragon rise, and Robin very well could have been the one to bring about this future, willingly or not. He was the one who killed Chrom, in the days yet to pass. He was the one who facilitated the downfall of the Shepherds and the return of Grima. He may have wanted nothing to do with it, but his fate was to be one with Grima. He is Grima."

"...Isn't our whole reason for coming back based around denying our fates?" Of all people, Lucina hadn't expected this from her retainer. Kjelle was one of the few Lucina had expected to side with her, "Lucina, I was there for that dark future too. I saw it with you, and I stood by your side all along the way. But this... this is murder, Luce. Think of how rare human life had become in the future, how it seemed so terrible to even kill the surviving Grimlel because of how sparse life had become. You would stand before me now, and say that this was justified? He was your friend. Your best friend, even," many of the time-travelers nodded agreement with the knight. Lucina, for the first time, noticed how alone she was in this. No one stood by her now, perhaps the only one who would have was lying dead in the center of everyone.

Silently, Lissa and Maribelle bent down and picked Robin off the ground, carrying him to be prepared for burial, she realized. Many followed them, none casting her so much as a glance as they walked by. Lucina exhaled slowly, her charade of certainty and assuredness quickly becoming harder and harder to retain. Eventually, everyone had left.

Everyone but her father, still kneeling, staring into space as tears fell from his eyes, Sumia, kneeling with her husband, desperately trying to support him, and Lon'qu, still standing right before her, still glaring.

"You cannot fool me, woman," the Feroxi's voice was low, quiet, tinged with a burning rage, "I can see the pain in your eyes, the anguish. You're beginning to realize you made a mistake, aren't you? The guilt is invading your mind, your very soul. It will follow you to the grave, and you deserve every second of it."

With that, Lon'qu stabbed his blade into the dirt, leaving it there in front of her as he turned away. As he walked back to the camp, Lucina could see the man's shoulders shake with sobs he tried so desperately hard to fight off.

Now, there was only her parents. Chrom, still despondent. Sumia, still desperate to help.

After a moment, Lucina fell to the ground, the charade breaking. She held her knees to her chest as she sobbed, the familiar weight of Falchion at her hip sickening her now. She cried as quietly as she could, until her breathing was ragged and her eyes became puffy and red. She wanted only comfort, an embrace from someone who loved her, who would tell her everything was going to be okay.

The comfort never came. When she looked out of her arms, her parents had left. She was alone.

Alone.

_What have I done?_

* * *

He woke with a start, the grass on his face stirring him from the realm of dreams he had just left. He looked around, the moon overhead illuminating the night. He found that he was in a field, a field that felt somehow familiar to him.

Then he realized. It was the field. The field where his friend had found him, nearly half a decade ago. He made to stood up, before groaning a bit, feeling a dull ache in his stomach. He looked down to see a hole torn in his shirt, though not his coat, thankfully. On his exposed skin now was a familiar looking brand scarred on his chest. The brand synonymous with the Halidom.

_What... what happened?_

"You died," the voice answering his thoughts was a woman's, gentle and kind. He turned around to face her, finding perhaps one of the most beautiful sights he had borne witness to. It was a woman, but one that seemed nearly divine in all her ways. She seemed to shimmer and shine gently, her long green hair cascading down her shoulders and back. Robin absently realized she bore some semblance to manakete friend he had, though she was far more divine. Indeed, he could spot no physical imperfection upon looking at her.

Her words troubled him though. Had he died?

Then everything came back to him. He remembered the feeling of the blade, as it pierced him through his back. He remembered his feeling of heartbreak, silently hoping his best friend would chose to let him live, despite knowing he needed to die.

He remembered her eyes, lonely and broken.

"Am... Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?" He tried to keep his voice steady, but the uncertainty was beginning to get to him. The woman looked him over curiously.

"I know you have questions, but first, you must answer one of mine; who are you?" Her voice made it clear that his answer to this would be important.

He had to think for a moment. He knew his name, but he also knew what his destiny was. He was fated to become something he hated, but was that who he was? A man who gave in to his fate?

No.

"I am Robin," His voice was firm, even, and strong. She smiled, seeming very pleased with his answer.

"Well, Sir Robin, it is good you awaken now. It took a great amount of effort to bring you back, it is something I rarely have the ability to do."

Robin stared at her for a moment, confusion evident on his face, "You... resurrected me? How do you have the power to do something so... inconceivable? By all laws of magic, this shouldn't be possible, there's no kind of spell that does anything similar, and what are the ramifications? War could become meaningless if both sides just resurrected their..." he carried on, muttering about his questions and theories as to how such a power existed, the woman looking at him, amused, until he finally fell quiet.

"To answer in the simplest terms, I rose you to life in much a similar way that Grima does with his Risen. Or perhaps, more appropriately, his Deadlords," she said, before giggling lightly at Robin's terrified expression.

"Am I a Deadlord?! Is that what this is?!" His question was tinged with abject horror by the prospect.

"No, no Sir Robin. You are every bit as human as you were before. You see, both Grima and I have some ability to raise the dead. The difference is that he chooses to raise millions of undead soldiers, expending most of his power on the quantity of typical Risen. I rarely use this power, storing it up for millennia, so that when someone needs a second chance, someone who could well save the world, I can raise them back from the dead so that they are not only undead, but rather, it is as if they never stopped living."

Robin digested this information slowly, "So... how long have I been out?"

"5 hours."

"And the Shepherds?"

"Your body has already been buried and they've left. They're... not taking it very well."

Robin nodded slowly, before a thought occurred to him, "Wait... if they buried my body, what am I doing here?" The woman gave him a small little smirk.

"I raised you from the dead, and you're concerned about the logistics in moving your body from one place to another? If you must know, I was more or less simply able to... remake your body. It is identical to what was, with a few notable changes, such as the brand of something made from the divine, and the fact that your hair isn't black anymore."

Upon hearing this, Robin finally noticed his white bangs in front of his eyes. He grew concerned for a moment, but chose to ask what he felt to be the more pressing question.

"Why? I... I could be the world's unmaking, you should have left me in the dirt."

"Robin, you may believe that fate has ordained you merge with the Fell Dragon, but I believe differently," the woman's voice was gentle and kind, "You, Fellblood, benefit more than anyone else from the spell used to return you to the living. Because of your father, your body is suited to hold the power of Grima himself. By extension, this means you are able to retain and command magic well beyond anyone else. The magic I used to bring you to life, typically it would dissipate upon achieving its goal. It would need to, as the body typically shouldn't be able to maintain so much raw energy before burning up and dying. But your body is different. Since you were meant to be a vessel, you can retain massive amounts of energy. Massive beyond imagining. All the magic used to revive you is now coursing through your veins, making you faster, stronger, perhaps even immune to something such as a Blood Curse," she paused for a moment.

"Do you see? He cannot control you anymore. You can be the one. The one that brings Grima, Validar, and the Grimleal crumbling to the ground."

Robin sat quietly for a moment, taking it all in. He didn't feel any different, aside from a sore in his chest, where Falchion had exited his body. He thought of his friends, of Chrom, Lissa, Frederick, Lon'qu, wondering how they fared without him. Part of him wondered if he should just stay out of their lives now, worried by the prospect of causing them undo trouble in the battles to come.

Then he thought of the heartbreak in Lucina's eyes.

"Where are the Shepherds?"

Naga smiled.

Grima had found a good vessel.

But she had found a good man.


	3. Home

_Home_

_"You may well have doomed us all."_

_"He was my friend, damn you. He was your friend."_

_"This is murder, Luce."_

The voices didn't offer any moment of reprieve. She had tossed and turned in her bedroll ever since the sun had fallen, ever since the rain had begun.

Ever since she had returned to her tent from the funeral.

The funeral wasn't what Robin had deserved. There was no grand speech, no crowd of thousands, no flowers laid on an exquisite tomb. No, he was simply buried in a grove of trees, with his coat and his sword, given only a small wooden tombstone of sorts. No one had said anything, really. They just knew that they had to bury him, and they had to do it soon. Her father had insisted on being the one to dig the hole for his brother in arms.

The whole time, Lucina noticed the glances she had received, watching her carefully. Some with concern, like Kjelle and Sumia, who would look away the second she went to make eye contact. Others weren't so shy.

Lon'qu's eyes glared at her for the entirety of the funeral. There was malice in his eyes like she had never seen, firey and blazing. Similar looks came from Cordelia and Virion, both rather close friends to the tactician, and even Frederick had a look of disdain aimed at her. She still preferred all of this to her father.

Chrom hadn't so much as looked at her the whole time. Speaking was out of the question entirely, though that wasn't exclusive to her. He stared at the grave, long after everyone else left, he remained, staring.

Lucina had finally crawled into her bedroll, but every time she tried to sleep, she saw it. Robin's face, his eyes pleading her to do what she had to, despite the fact that it was the last thing she ever wanted. She still wished he had resisted her. She knows that a few words could have broken her.

Again, she realized how utterly alone she was. No one wanted her here, not anymore. To the Shepherds, she was the woman that had taken their friend. No better than Gangrel. No better than Walhart. No better than Validar.

...no better than Grima, huh?...

That thought rose her to action. She clambered to her feet, grabbing her traveling bag. She began to put her bedroll in, along with all the food she had in her tent. She dressed in her armor, regretting she didn't have any good to save her from this torrential downpour. Finally, she went to grab Falchion, but hesitated. When she looked at the blade, she could only see his blood, his wound. She shook her head sadly, leaving the blade that had been a part of her for so long. The blade that her father had given her.

The father she no longer had. The one that couldn't even look at her.

She left the blade in its sheath, and lifted the flap of her tent, making ready to leave…

And there before her, standing in the pouring rain, was a man who's gaze tore through her very being.

Chrom.

"Turn around, go back inside. I… would have words with you." His voice was quiet, soft, barely audible over the storm. She nodded slowly, turning around and heading inside, setting down her belongings and lighting a lamp as her father entered.

It was clear he had expected her to try and run. He was drenched to the bone, and probably would have noticed how cold he was, had he not be preoccupied with other matters. For the time, Lucina simply sat on her bedroll as her father sat before her, arms propped up on his knees.

"Listen, I have thought long and… very, very hard about what I was going to say to you. These are prepared words, Lucina. Do you understand?" His voice was still soft, but there was an undeniable edge attached to it.

"Y-yes, Chrom," she could barely get his name out. He quirked an eyebrow to it, but sighed and continued.

"You have done something… reprehensible. Abhorrent. And you know this. I can see it in your eyes, you know that this wasn't the right thing to do. I know… I know he desired this too. I know he probably told you that what you did was right, that it was the only way. Neither of you considered what his life meant to all of us, or what his mind might have gotten us through, in the days to come," his voice was even, but his eyes steeled.

"In truth, I don't know what to do. We've lost the mind that may have won us the war, Validar has the Emblem, and I am at a complete and total loss for how we will combat him." Chrom's face turned, angled to the ground, letting his face fall for a moment, "everything Emmeryn stood for may well be lost, Lucina."

With every word, she broke a little more. She was already suffering, but now, her heart was shattering as she struggled to maintain some form of composure.

For a moment, there was silence between the two, the only sound being the pitter patter of rain on her canvas tent.

"Still," her father said, breaking the silence, "I'm sorry."

Her eyes shot up meeting his. His gaze had an odd feeling to it. Pity? Disappointment? Her mouth beginning to voice her confusion before she was cut off by his words.

"I'm sorry, Lucina. I know how… how alone you must feel, I know the others hold you accountable for his death, as they have the right to do. But I know how close you two were. I think everyone was so focused on their own pain, none of them ever noticed yours. You lost your best friend. The fact that it was your own doing doesn't deaden the pain. Rather, I expect it multiplies it," it took all Lucina had not to breakdown in front of him. It hurt. It hurt. She missed him, as though a part of her was missing.

"I-I… I don't belong here. I do not deserve your pity. I need to leave, the Shepherds will be better without me, Chrom."

"Why do you call me Chrom now?" His question was sudden, "In the time that I've known the truth to who you are, you have never called me such."

For a moment, she couldn't answer. She feared she would break the moment she opened her mouth. Truthfully, she knew her father wouldn't want her anymore. She was just the one who had taken his friend.

"I-... I didn't th-think… I thought you wouldn't…," she took a deep breath, trying to maintain some semblance of composure, even as tears began to fall, as her voice began to break, "I didn't think you would want a daughter like me. Not anymore."

Chrom sighed, and tilted her head up to meet his eyes, full of tears as well. He wiped a tear from her cheek, just as he had the day she had told him who she was.

"Lucina… you made a mistake. A terrible one that I fear will follow you to your final day," he trailed off for a moment, before offering a small smile. The first he'd had since losing his friend.

"But you are every bit my daughter still. I love you now just as I did yesterday, and just as I will tomorrow. Your mother feels exactly the same, you know. Lucina, you have a home with us. You are our daughter, and even the worst mistakes wouldn't change that. You aren't… you are not alone."

Her eyes widened, her father's unwavering gaze ensuring her that he meant every word. Tears began to fall down his face now, mirroring his daughter's.

"But I… he was your brother… how could you still want me?" Her voice was small and fragile. For a moment, there was no response, only movement. Chrom pulled her into an embrace she had never expected to receive again, holding her tight to his chest.

"I have lost my brother. I'll be damned if I lose my daughter too," his grip tightened, "You have a home. You have people who love you. I know it won't be easy, and you are free to do as you will, but please… stay. Stay with the Shepherds. I know some will take a long time to forgive you for what happened, but I don't care. The only thing that matters is keeping the family I still have."

That was the last she could take. The sobs started slowly, growing more intense, any composure melting away. For the moment, she just clutched her father's tunic, crying into his chest, nodding gently to acknowledge his request.

They stayed like this for a moment, before Chrom began sobbing too.

Two exalts, one present, one future-past.

Two hearts consumed only with loss. Two hearts that longed for the same man.

To Lucina, she knew. She knew that Robin had been… he had been the love of her life. He had shown her that she could love someone, genuinely and freely, and he had never even known.

Now, he never will.

To Chrom, he knew. Knew that Robin had been his brother in all but blood. He had shown him that the true thing separating the Shepherds from any other group was their bonds.

Both exalts sobbed, late into the night.

* * *

**_Sorry about the delay between uploads, as well as how short this is. Initially, this chapter was going to be substantially longer, as it was going to include Robin embarking on his own odyssey to find his friends again. But, I think I want the focus for this to be solely on Chrom and Lucina, as well as their shared grief. Next time, it will be Robin's turn, don't you worry._**


	4. Remembrance

_Remembrance_

"_You know it's okay? To need others?" The tactician's words had been spoken quietly, carefully, but with confidence and certainty, "You're not alone anymore Lon'qu."_

The swordmaster shook his head lightly, cursing himself a bit as he did so. He had gone back too far in his mind, too far into his past. The girl clutching his chest stirred a bit, but she didn't wake up. Lissa had cried for hours, sobbing until she had exhausted all of her energy, falling asleep in her husband's arms.

He remembered a time when such close contact would have sent him reeling, a time when the idea of being this open to anyone, or anyone being this open toward him, would have disgusted him.

Robin, that bastard, had pulled the Feroxi out of his self-imposed solitude. Much of what Lon'qu had, he'd been able to thank the tactician for. His wife, his friendship with Chrom, his ability to be open with others, all of this came from one conversation. A conversation where Robin showed Lon'qu that life was more than he and his blade. Life was finding a home in the people around you. And he had done it.

His home once had four pillars supporting it. One was Chrom, his brother-in-law that had welcomed him with open arms upon hearing of his engagement to Lissa. The second was Sumia, a woman that he once would have had no interest in speaking to, but one that had welcomed him just as her husband had. The third, the strongest, was Lissa. The woman that taught him love.

But now, the fourth was gone.

His brother in arms, his comrade, his _friend_ was gone.

Lon'qu had to fight his own mind, trying not to give in to his own emotions. He had been furious, outraged at the woman who had taken his friend. Lucina, who had been closer to Robin than anyone save perhaps Chrom, had taken matters into his own hands and silenced him.

As his temper cooled, he did not feel such burning fury for her, though the embers most definitely remained. But as he had time to sit and think, he realized that she probably wouldn't have done it, had he not allowed her to do so. She had obviously cared for him above most anything else, and now, she had been silent. Unspeaking and unspoken to. In a sense, he pitied her. In another sense, he could not stop himself from seeing Robin's corpse every time he looked at her.

He knew full well what Robin was now, all of the Shepherds did. He was meant to be the Fell Dragon's vessel. It explained a lot about his origins, and how Validar had been able to use the tactician against them. No doubt Robin hated himself for handing over the fire emblem, willingly or not.

No doubt he would have taken his life anyway, even if he hadn't been killed by Lucina.

So why, why couldn't Lon'qu help but burn in anger at the thought of her?

Perhaps because he knew that the only people who cared about Robin's connection to the dragon were Lucina and Robin himself. The rest of the Shepherds, even Frederick, were all outraged over the tactician; but it hadn't been him they were raging toward. They were disgusted, furious toward the man that had forced their tactician to betray them, the man that stripped Robin of all his agency, all of his will.

When they were leaving Plegia, they all raged with a vengeance for their friend.

To put it simply, everyone loved Robin. He was a quiet, introverted man, but he had a way of peeling away people's layers and getting to who they truly were. He missed nothing, just as shrewd and wise in his relationships as he was a battlefield. But he was perhaps the kindest, most selfless man Lon'qu had ever known.

Up to the very end.

He sighed again, getting a handle on his emotions, sleep beginning to take him as he drifted off to the sound of rain pouring against his tent.

Then, a memory took him.

"_I still don't know how to be in a relationship…" Lon'qu had been lamenting to himself for quite some time, Robin listening quietly as he sat in his chair, sitting in the Grandmaster's office. Lon'qu sat across the desk from him, struggling to maintain eye contact over the mountains of paperwork on the desktop. He had only confessed his love to Lissa a few weeks ago, and had only gone public with their courtship a few days ago. The swordsman truly was happier now than he had been in his entire life, and yet, he still felt like he only bumbled around in his relationship, making things unnecessarily awkward at times. "I don't know… I suppose I never quite imagined I would be _in _a relationship, much less one with so different a personality from mine."_

"_Does the difference in personality bother you?" The tactician had asked, without judgement._

"_Not at all. I'm grateful she's so different from me. Could you imagine me being with someone as dour as I am?" he asked, jokingly._

_The tactician chuckled a little, under his breath, taking a moment to think before he spoke._

"_Don't overthink things, my friend. I know you are… inexperienced in matters of the heart, but do you truly think Lissa's any better off? The only man that she had even thought of in such a way before you, was Marth. And we all know how that turned out, given Lucina is most definitely a woman," he said, no small amount of mirth in his voice as he spoke the last sentence. Lon'qu laughed quietly as Robin continued._

"_I only mean to say that you are doing better than you think. You make her happy, that much is obvious. Just keep doing what you're doing, it'll feel more natural with time," he had said, leaning back in his chair. Lon'qu nodded a bit._

"_I… see. There is wisdom to your words, friend, and I am thankful to be heard. But tell me," Lon'qu's eyes had narrowed slightly, "how did you become acquainted with matters of the heart?"_

_The Grandmaster tactician maintained eye contact for a moment, before breaking and looking away, sighing._

"_I'm not… I have never been in a relationship before, so I do not profess to knowing a great deal in regards to romance."_

_Lon'qu's smile turned predatory, "But there is someone, is there not?"_

_The tactician sighed again, louder this time, still looking away._

"_There is… there's a woman, yes. A woman that has earned my undying trust, and respect. One that I love above… above all else," he didn't continue, nor did he give the name of the woman. Lon'qu knew full well that if the tactician had wanted to continue, he would have. The swordsman had smiled, and given him a slap on the shoulder before walking away, thanking him for the advice again._

And now, under the canvas roof of his tent, the rain pouring down hard, and clutching the woman he loved close to his chest, Lon'qu realized why he was so furious toward Lucina.

It had been her. Robin had loved her above all else.

And she killed him.

* * *

"_You aren't a coward, Virion. You stand before me, fire in your eyes, ready to take up arms against the Valmese for the name of your people. A coward never would have left Ylisse."_

_Virion wasn't sure how he had wound up in his current position. Robin, who had always been a good friend to the archer, had walked into the man's cabin at a bad time, their ship bobbing up and down as they sailed toward Valm._

_The duke had been trembling, shaking. Seeing the Valmese again… it had shaken him. He missed Roseanne, he missed his people._

_He hated himself for leaving._

"_They needed me! And I left them to suffer under the conqueror's boot!" He was yelling now, fists clenching and unclenching. The tactician smiled softly, shaking his head._

"_Coming to Ylisse, joining the Shepherds, it was the best thing you could have done. Your insight on Valm has been immensely helpful, and loathe as I am to help your ego, your skill with a bow is second to none. Here, now, you can make a difference. A difference you never would have made if you hadn't left."_

_His voice had been calm and gentle, kind and warm. He waited for no response, giving another smile before turning to leave, pausing at the door of the archer's cabin for a moment._

"_I know… I know you may not agree right now, but you're a good man, Virion. I'm honored to have known such a person."_

_And with that, he was gone._

_Gone…_

Gone.

The duke bolted up. No longer was he aboard a ship with the rest of the Shepherds. No, he was in his tent, the rain falling hard now, late into the night. He had broken into a cold sweat, shaking slightly, as he began to sob.

His friend was gone. All he had now were memories, just as the one he had awoken from.

Beside him, Cherche rose, wrapping her arms around him lightly. She muttered comforting words into his ear, pulling him close to her, lying him back down as she stroked his hair. He said nothing, and she made no attempt at speaking. She knew everything he would say, just as he knew everything she would respond with.

So they laid there, he sobbing into her arms, she holding him close, wanting only to heal his heart.

They were each other's strength, Cherche realized. She knew that right now, she needed to be strong for the man she loved, just as he had been strong when she needed him.

If she could get him through the night, just this night, everything would be okay. It would take time, a long time. He lost one of his dearest friends, she lost a man she had been rather fond of, but it would be okay again. She was here for him, just as he was for her.

They had each other.

Forever.

* * *

"_Just so you know, I think you two are utterly perfect for each other," the tactician looked a bit uncomfortable in his experience clothing, clothing he had only bought for the wedding. Cordelia, in her dress of white, beamed at her friend._

"_Thank you, Robin! Your words mean a great deal to me. I'm certain they would to Frederick too," the tactician responded with a smile of his own. She was about to walk down the aisle, something she confessed some amount of nervousness toward. But any anxiety she had was completely outmatched by her utter exhilaration. She had found him, the perfect man for her._

_She found words difficult, but she just smiled at Robin, noting that he looked more nervous than she felt. Cordelia, having lost her father at a young age and lacking any brothers, had only one man that she had wanted to give her away to her betrothed; Robin, her brother in all but blood._

"_Thank you, for accepting my request," she had said, for the umpteenth time._

"_Of course. I'm honored to have been asked," he responded, the same he had every previous time, flashing the same, but genuine, smile._

_The doors opened, as the organ started playing. Robin wrapped his arm around hers, walking with her to her betrothed, beaming at her from his spot at the end of the aisle. _

"You're still thinking of him, aren't you?" A voice asked, pulling her from her memories as she sat in her tent. Looking up, she saw her husband smiling sadly at her, his armor soaking. He had just returned from his watch, and she hadn't even realized the tent had opened. She nodded slowly, respond to his question as he sat in front of her, folding his legs as he rested on the ground.

"I am sorry, Cordelia. We all grieve for the loss of a truly great man, but I know how close you two were," his voice was softer than normal as she sat across from him, eyes trained at the ground.

"Y-you hurt too, don't you?" Her voice was shaky, fragile, but her question wasn't enunciated with any uncertainty. Frederick's eyes fell to the ground, as he let out a long sigh.

"I… I was not kind to Robin, when we first met. I did not trust him, something I made clear time and again. It took a year for me to get over myself, for me to stop being so cold, so harsh to the man. But the whole time, that year and all after, he was only kind to me. Despite how little I deserved it, he only treated me with respect and friendliness…", the knight trailed off, looking raising his gaze to meet his wife's. She saw his hurt, his own grief.

His immense, unending guilt.

"I-I… I had hoped to tell him… to tell him I was sorry for how I treated him for so long. Now, I'll never be able to."

She sat for a moment, silently staring into his eyes, before throwing herself at him. She wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his chest as he held her close. He shed no tear, he did not sob, but she knew that he was devastated. She knew that he would do whatever it took to heal her, and so she would do the same.

Looking up at him, she kissed him deeply.

When she pulled away, she saw it. A sight she never expected to see.

Tears, falling down the knight's cheek.

* * *

"_Chrom, I would say this alone to you," the tactician spoke plainly, his voice carrying conviction, a good deal louder than was usual, "you are not unworthy. We follow you because you are a man worthy of being followed. Emmeryn would agree. You are worthy of leading us, worthy of victory over Plegia. You are worthy of being the Exalt!" His voice rose in his last sentence, accentuating his voice. Chrom shook his head sadly, tears coming to his eyes unbidden. _

"_Robin, I'm half the person Emm ever was. I can't… I can't do it."_

_Robin had simply smiled, clapping a hand on Chrom's shoulder, "It's okay. I am half the person she ever was too. We could accomplish great things individually, but together? Who could stop us?"_

Chrom sighed as he stepped into his tent, his wife looking up at him as he entered, her voice wary.

"How is she?" she asked.

"How do you think?" his response had a laugh with it, but it was without mirth. "She's taking it harder than anyone I think. You know how close they were."

Sumia nodded gently, taking one of her husband's hands in her own.

"So," she said after a moment's pause, "what do we do now?" Chrom looked down in response, shaking his head.

"What… what is there to do? They have the Emblem. They won. We may as well return to Ylisstol, living out what remains in relative safety," his voice lacked it's usual strength, it's usual conviction as he spoke. His wife stood before him, leaning down to meet his eye level as he sat, smiling at him.

"Now dear, will I have to punch you again as I had in Ferox?" Chrom narrowed his brows

"I… what do you mean?"

"They have not won until we have given in and allowed them to cement a victory. They may have the Emblem, but I feel in my heart of hearts that this isn't over. Not while any of the Shepherds draw breath," the exalt's eyes raised to meet his wife's, seeing her steel determination.

"We can't win, Sumia. Not without Robin."

"Then we will die warrior's deaths, one and all. Not cowered behind the walls of a city. The war is not won, not until the last man willing to fight has fallen. Now tell me, my Exalt, what will we do?"

Chrom was taken aback. She had spoken with such strength, such iron will, that one could forget she had been mourning for her friend an hour earlier. She truly was ready to fight and die, to her last breath. He could see it in the fire of her eyes, hear it in the passion in her voice. She would fight to the bitter end.

And so, Chrom resolved, she would not do it alone.

"Do you think they will follow me, knowing we have lost the brains to our army?" This was the only question that mattered to Chrom in that moment.

Her response was immediate.

"We followed you before Robin, and we will follow you after."

Chrom sat for a moment, the fire in his eyes beginning to grow to match his wife's.

He stood to his feet, and when he spoke, all of the determination, the strength, the conviction had returned, the brand on his shoulder almost seeming to glow.

"Very well. We march for Regna Ferox in the morning. We may fight and die, but we will get every willing man and woman there with us. We will be the last stand."

He spoke with such strength, but he knew how hopeless the situation was.

_I hope I don't screw this up, Robin._

* * *

_**Thank you all for your responses! After some deliberation, I have decided to continue with the story as is, but just to make clear; I have every intention of making this story a long one. I may do a novelization after finishing this, but I'm not sure. For now, I just wanna focus on making this story a good one :)**_

_**I am also sorry for pushing off Robin's arc by another chapter. I wanted to take some time to show his closest friends reflecting on the tactician's demise. Next chapter, though, I plan to be a long one, mostly about his quest to join his friends,as he meets a familiar face along the way...**_


	5. Odyssey

_Odyssey _

He stumbled over in the corridor, shouting in pain as he clutched onto the wall, trying desperately not to crumble to his knees before failing. The hierophant was aware of the two people following him jumping back at first, in shock, before the taller of the two, Validar, rushed to his side. Grima's avatar clutched at his chest as the pain subsided, quickly realizing what had happened.

"My Lord?! Are you injured? Was there an attack? I know we swept the castle thoroughly before coming in!" Validar's attempts to serve his master were ceaseless. Grima realized that he had indeed chosen a worthy servant, one that had gotten the Fire Emblem and had the foresight to prepare a castle for them to stay at after the battle at the palace in the Plegia capital.

When Grima rose to his feet, unsteadily, he smiled a predatory smile, blood spilling out of the corner of his mouth when he laughed.

"That… that bastard actually did it! A pawn took itself off the board!" The avatar was laughing now, the harsh sound bouncing off the closely confined corridors of the castle, many of the guards seemingly unnerved as they stood at their post.

"What happened?" Aversa asked once the laughter subsided.

Grima fixed a look on her that froze her in place. It was one of rage, disbelief, and humor all at once.

"Your dearest brother is dead."

The words hit her like a brick to the head. For a moment, her breathing hitched. Her heart skipped beats, and she broke out in a cold sweat.

Her father, it seemed, lacked any inherent shock.

"How do you know of this, my Lord?" His voice carried an undertone of surprise, but none of the conflicted emotion Aversa felt.

"I know the sting of the Exalt's blade when I feel it," the vessel laughed, coughing up more blood.

"The… the Exalt killed him?! And why did it affect you?!"

"Perhaps it was the Exalt, but more likely it was that brat of a daughter of his. I saw how she lead in the future, this is something she would do, no doubt," the avatar grimaced, "as for why it affected me, I'm not certain. If I had to warrant a guess, it would be because this body is another aspect of his. Simply put, I shouldn't be here. The fact that I am intrinsically links me to him. Normally, this link is rather unsubstantial and could be ignored outright, but something about Falchion… no matter."

Validar pondered this for a moment, before voicing a concern that had been hanging in the back of his mind, as he helped his Lord back into an upright position.

"What shall we do now, without the Heart?" Grima's smile was wicked.

"Who the hell needs it? The second that I came into this time, it mattered little whether that brat of a tactician lived or died. In the end, he was an ace up our sleeves. One that we played, when it mattered, and now his usefulness has likely been exhausted for the future. His death at the hands of his friend only means that there is one less person we must kill," Grima trailed off for a moment before continuing, "Though, I must wonder… did she attack him and murder him in cold blood? Or did he make a noble sacrifice and beg for death? No matter, he overestimated his own importance in our plans now. The only thing that matters is getting to the Table and performing the Awakening. Validar, do you still carry the Emblem?"

The sorcerer-king nodded, pulling the shield from somewhere deep within his robes, and handing it to the avatar.

As Aversa watched the exchange, she felt an overwhelming sense of dread. Suddenly, her back was against a wall; without even realizing it, she had been slowly backing away from the two men before her.

He was gone.

He was dead.

Her brother was dead.

She had often pondered on the day that her brother would be defeated. She imagined feeling immense pleasure and satisfaction in seeing the prodigal child's downfall. She had imagined a fanfare, a great battle where she would finally best her brother and strike him down. She imagined awards, recognition. Perhaps even appreciation in her father's eyes.

Perhaps even love.

But now, she only felt… empty. Her brother was dead. The boy she had seen grow into a man was dead. All of her contempt, her jealousy, her pride, in a moment it all fell away. What was left was that emptiness, and a profound feeling of loneliness to accompany it.

What was left for her now?

A sound like a knife scraping on metal snapped her out of her thoughts, Grima's terrifying laugh unsettling her as he held the Emblem.

"My… my Lord?" Validar said, questioningly, clearly concerned by the avatar's uncharacteristic mirth.

"That bastard played you for a fool, even after the grave!" The avatar was laughing with a harsher edge now. In a fluid motion, he pulled one of the gemstones, Gules, from the Emblem, throwing it on the ground. In a second motion, just as fluid as the first, he stomped on the gem, shattering it beneath his foot.

"Just a red stone, enchanted to give the impression of magic! Simple, but effective enough to work!" The avatar continued to laugh, wiping a tear from its soulless eyes.

Validar's eyes widened in shock, instinctively taking a step back. His mouth tried to form words, but he couldn't seem to get his tongue to work.

"They still have Gules. We cannot perform our Awakening, not without all 5," Grima had stopped laughing, though he clearly found a great deal of humor in this situation.

Recovering from his shock, Validar threw himself to his knees before Grima, grovelling before him.

"My Lord, please forgive me! I have failed you!" Aversa noted, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she was truly sickened by the sight before her. Her father, a man that had once seemed larger than life, now licked the boot of a man that wore her brother's face.

A ghost's face.

"Rise Validar. Hope is hardly lost for us. This is a delay, nothing more," Grima's voice was calm, even, but with an edge to it like a blade.

"The gemstone must be in possession of one of the Ylissean brats. The question of importance is who has it. Validar, what is the state of the Plegian army?" Validar rose his head to his master's question.

"It… is not as strong as before Gangrel's war. But, then, the Ylisseans and Feroxi are badly weakened as well after the Valm campaign. I would wager we are a match for them," Validar had risen to his feet slowly as he spoke, regaining his composure.

"Mmm… Raise our armies, prepare them go invade both Ylisse and Regna Ferox if needed. Aversa," the woman started as the avatar turned to regard her, "you will destroy the Shepherds personally."

After a beat, she found her voice again. "M-me? I… very well, my Lord," Aversa knew there was little point in debate; she would only risk angering the dark god. Her hesitance was not lost on the dragon, however.

"You'll do fine. You'll be very well equipped for the battle ahead." The avatar drifted away for a moment, his eyes focusing on nothing. "I suspect they'll be headed for Ferox, seeing as the Ylissean army is far weaker than their ally's at this point and time. They'll want to clue the Khan in on their precarious position, and then they're likely to head for Ylisstol to muster their own armies as well. It would be easiest, I believe, to cut them off as they leave Ferox for Ylisstol."

Aversa stared, feeling a little dumbstruck. It was easy to forget that the avatar had once been the same cunning and intelligent tactician her brother had been. She watched as the avatar stared out the window, looking into the endless night of the Plegian desert.

"You have your orders, both of you," Grima's voice was calm and quiet, "now go. We are at war once again."

* * *

"I take it sleep did not find you well, milord?"

Chrom looked up from his seat at the head table of the command tent to find his retainer standing above him. He smirked sadly.

Frederick's armor was as pristine as always, but his hair was badly unkempt, not to mention the bags beneath his eyes. It seemed he hadn't found sleep any easier than the Exalt himself had.

In fact, Chrom realized, none of the Shepherds seemed to have gotten any sleep. They filed in one by one taking their places at the tables, some talking softly amongst themselves, most not saying anything at all.

Sully sat at her table, staring at her plate of food as she clutched her fork in her hand, the metal actually bending in her grip. Her daughter sat beside her, clearly worried for her mother, and Stahl sat across from the two, looking just as defeated as Chrom felt.

Virion, for the first time that Chrom had ever seen, looked atrocious. His long hair wasn't brushed, and had tangled in knots. His clothes were all wrinkled, his eyes bloodshot. He stared into space, clutching Cherche's hand as though it were his only life line.

Beside the Exalt, Sumia looked worse for wear too. She had snapped Chrom back into his senses, but he knew the truth of it. She had loved Robin just as Chrom had; he had been as much a brother to her as he had been to him.

Never before had the Shepherds seemed so utterly defeated. Never had they seemed so lost.

Truly, they mourned for their tactician. For their friend.

Chrom eventually snapped out of his thoughts, zoning back in on his retainer's question.

"I don't think sleep found anyone well last night, Frederick," the Exalt said somberly. He turned to regard the pink hues of the sky, the sun only just beginning to rise. "I wish I could allow time to mourn properly, but such is our duty. How is Cordelia?"

Frederick shifted his weight from one foot to the other, one of the few tells of unease the Knight Commander had. He cast a glance over to his wife, where she stood guard, just outside the tent. Her armor was well maintained, her lance just as beautiful as ever, but she was truly just as broken up as the rest of them.

"She grieves for one of her dearest friends… just as we all do. She is strong, but I fear this will not be a pain eased by the passage of time. For her, or for anyone."

Chrom raised an eyebrow at the knight's words. He knew Frederick had grown fond of the tactician, but the Exalt seemed to have not fully grasped just how close Frederick had gotten to Robin.

"Your… your words ring true, old friend. Is everyone here?"

Frederick shifted his weight again, "We are missing one, milord."

Chrom sighed, not needing to ask who it was that hadn't come. He glanced over to his wife, who gave him a sad smile, before looking back at Frederick.

"I… don't think she will be coming," the Exalt sighed. Frederick nodded, trying to keep his face from showing how he felt about the Exalt's daughter, something Chrom greatly appreciated.

Chrom fell into silence, looking out over the Shepherds assembled before him as they are their breakfast. Well, as some did. There were many blank stares, many plates of food untouched.

Many hearts torn in two.

Normally, they would eat in the mess tent. That breakfast had been called from the command tent, at sunrise, meant that most of them knew orders were coming. Important ones.

So, when Chrom stood, what little talking there had been fell silent. Dozens of eyes fell upon him, all waiting to hear what their leader had to say. And so, when their Exalt spoke, he did so with confidence and vitality.

"I know that we have lost something irreplaceable. I know that many of you, myself included, are still struggling to come to terms with what's happened. We lost more than just a tactician. We lost a friend, a brother to us all." His voice cracked as he spoke, but he never wavered.

"But this is not over. Not until we allow it to be. I know we have lost the mind that got us this far, but I will not stop fighting. Not until the last of my blood has been spilt. I hope that you all will continue to follow me, to trust in me," His voice grew louder, "Trust in my rage for my brother-in-arms! Help me, and we will destroy his bastard of a 'father'. We will dismantle the Grimleal. We will destroy Grima," he spat the word with all the venom he could muster, "I will not force any of you to stay, and indeed, we may all very well die. But, I have every intention of dying blade in hand. I hope you all feel the same way."

And with that, he took a breath. For a moment, no one spoke a word. When someone finally did speak, it was not who he had expected it to be.

"I pledged my blade to you nearly half a decade ago. My pledge has not changed," Lon'qu said, his voice calm and even, lacking the rage Chrom had heard in it the day prior.

"Everyone in this room has stared death in the face following you. None of us have any intention of stopping." Stahl's gaze was deadly serious, a rare look for the cavalier. To the Exalt's joy, all of the Shepherds nodded their heads in agreement, Cynthia practically banging her head on the table with the intensity of her motion.

"My friends, I thank you." He was always moved by how devoted they were to him. "Our next move will be to head for Regna Ferox. If this is truly the endgame, then we must call upon every willing man and woman to fight. After heading there and meeting with Khan Flavia, we make for Ylisstol to gather our own forces. We know that the enemy will be trying to perform the Awakening at the Dragon's Table. We will fight them there, and we will stop Validar, or we will die trying."

Many faces hardened, but not one of them seemed afraid. They stood before their Exalt, fully prepared to charge into battle with him once more.

"Now, finish your meals. We break camp in two hours," with those final orders, Chrom turned to leave the tent, before a slam cut him off.

Turning back around, he saw Sully standing, glaring at him. Her eyes were filled with blazing anger.

She hadn't spoken since yesterday, before they heard about Robin, and now her voice was shaky, uneven.

"What of our friend's murderer? Will she get off free?" Venom dripped from the woman's voice

Chrom sighed, expecting something like this from someone. That it was Sully who asked was hardly any surprise. She was quick to anger, brash, and blunt, but loyal to a fault to those she called friends. Betrayal of any sort was an action that enraged her unlike anything else.

"Listen, I understand your anger, the anger all of you have. Lucina has done something that will haunt her until the end of her days, and perhaps it should." Chrom did his best, but he couldn't prevent the quiver in his voice.

"But you will offer her amnesty?! Chrom, if it was anyone else, you would be the first person to either lock them up or send them off!" The redheaded cavalier was approaching him now, her fists clenched tightly.

Then, she stood before him, glaring up at the taller man, who crossed his arms defiantly. "I will not fight by the side of a friend-killer. Even if she is your daughter, even if she had your pardon."

Around them, Chrom could tell the others were getting antsy. Frederick watched Sully's every move with great attention, ready to leap in should she threaten the Exalt. Chrom also noticed Cordelia, clutching her lance, as though she were prepared for a fight. Kjelle and Stahl were both clearly lost, neither knowing what to do.

Chrom sighed once more, closing his eyes as he aimed his face toward the ground. "Peace, Sully. I will not send my daughter away, no. She did something abhorrent, and she knows." He glanced up to Sully once more, meeting her eyes, "She also knows how all of you view her. In truth, she was prepared to leave last night. She is only still here because I pleaded with her to do so."

"Chrom, she took your _brother_! The man who got the Shepherds through two of the bloodiest wars of the century without losing ONE of us! He was our friend! Our comrade! Your _daughter _took her from us, and you would deny any justice be done?!" Her muscles tensed beneath her armor, her nostrils flared, and… for the first time in all of the years Chrom had known her, tears filled her eyes.

Tentatively, slowly, and carefully, Chrom reached out to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Absently, he noted that this was something he often did to Robin, to try and set the tactician's mind at ease. The cavalier tensed noticeably at first, but did seem to calm down a bit after a moment. She took deep breaths, closing her eyes until Chrom spoke.

"I'm sorry, friend. My heart… my heart grieves with you. But please understand, I've lost a brother. I cannot… I will not lose my daughter as well. Neither one of them. I do not wish to punish Lucina, you are correct. But it is because I know that she is already punishing herself. Truth be told, nothing we did or said to her would compare to the penance she places on herself."

Sully seemed to relax, letting out a long exhale. When she opened her eyes, the anger wasn't completely gone, but it had cooled somewhat.

"I can't… I cannot forgive her. Not yet. I need time." Her voice wasn't as harsh, but she pushed Chrom's arm away, walking out of the tent.

The Exalt sighed, feeling far older than he had any right to. He was aware of the rest of the Shepherds keenly watching him, searching for hope, for strength; anything but the sheer defeat that they all knew approached.

It seemed well and truly hopeless. For the first time, everything seemed hopeless. They lost the Emblem, as well as their smartest member, and a powerful one as well. Chrom realized that the others were drawing the same conclusions. The end of the world approached, and what were they to do but stall it?

Still, he looked at his Shepherds with a gaze of intensity and strength.

"My Shepherds… stand with me, once more." His command was short, simple, but the passion and heart that went into it was palpable. All of the Shepherds present nodded. They would ride into hell, together.

* * *

About an hour before they were due to leave, Cordelia was walking to her pegasus, lance over her shoulder. Any who knew her could tell that now was a time to avoid her. Her hair seemed to flow like fire as it cascaded down her shoulders, her eyes harsh and burning, but wholly unfocused on anything around her. She had orders, and she would carry them out. The sealed letter in her pouch, given to her by the Exalt, had to reach the capital, else they would be kept in the dark on the current situation for far too long.

It fell on her, then, to make it to Ylisstol as quickly as she could. That's why she had been selected, after all. Chrom had trusted her speed. And she would show him that he was right in doing so.

So focused, so completely unaware of anything save her destination was she, that she failed to notice the fact that she was on a collision course with someone else.

Someone whose eyes were also wholly unfocused, walking only to their destination and paying no heed to their surroundings.

Finally, Cordelia barreled into the opposing force, both her and the newcomer tumbling over in the grass on the edge of camp. The Falcon Knight managed to lift her head slowly, inadvertently scowling when she saw who it was that had interrupted her stride.

Lucina blinked back at her, eyes and face blank as she lay on the ground where she fell. The cerulean haired princess stood, offering a hand to Cordelia for a moment, face still emotionless. The Falcon Knight scoffed, rising to her feet on her own, rejecting the outstretched hand before her. Before Lucina could even retract it, Cordelia was already off, walking to her pegasus in the opposite direction.

Though the Knight was several feet of way, she heard the princess speak as she turned to continue her own stride.

"I'm sorry."

Cordelia noted that she had never heard the woman sound quite so small.

* * *

Naga sighed, though truthfully she was more amused than frustrated.

For someone intended to be the harbinger of the End Times, she couldn't help but find this Fellblood… cute, in a way. In the same way a mother would think of her child.

He was certainly and clearly a genius, the goddess could sense that from the get go. It was all in his eyes, perceptive and intelligent, analytical and cunning. He was also adjusting very well, he seemed more curious than in shock. He had a great deal of questions, some about the current situation, many more general. He had yet to ask _who _she was, but Naga could tell he didn't need to. He knew.

"So… I'll be more powerful, if your theory is correct?" He asked, head tilted toward the side.

"Yes, but you would do well to remember that it is a theory. I'm not certain, we do not have much to compare to. I have never used this ability before."

"Meaning that this is, more or less, guesswork."

"Would that pose a problem?"

"Guesswork is my job," he smirked with his response, before frowning, "But, you mentioned your power flowing through my veins. Is it not similar to be of Exalted blood? I've read often that the power of the divine dragon flows strongly in the Exalted bloodline."

"It is not similar to being of Exalted blood, Sir Robin, it is identical. It is… difficult to pinpoint, but you have many of the same boons that are bestowed upon the Exalted. Increased vitality and physical attributes, a significantly longer lifetime, youth that remains far longer than normal, and more. As mentioned, it affects your magical capabilities above all else, bonding with your Fellblood. You get the best of both, Sir Robin." Naga's explanation left Robin in consideration. He had many questions, a great many, but as the sun peaked over the eastern hills, he suddenly realized that dawn had broken.

"Fellblood, a new day dawns, and a new path is open to you. Go, go to Arena Ferox, find your comrades. Tell them the fight has only just begun anew. A new day dawns for all of Archanea, and you are the hope reborn. Go, my Fellblood, upon your newest odyssey, and may the ground quake as you pass."

Upon her final message, the goddess seemingly vanished. Robin stood alone in the field now, his coat on tight, his blade at his side. He sighed, his thumb tracing the brand on his chest. He stared out, across the open field and into the pink sky of the rising sun.

In the stars still visible, he could still count the constellations. He remembered his dearest friend, always asking him to tell her the names of the patterns in the night sky, anytime they inadvertently stayed at the campfire talking too late. He realized that there were many he had yet to show her.

Many he would show her soon.

* * *

It took three days of hard travel, little sleep, and barely any food, but Robin finally made it to Ylisstol!

Something he was ecstatic about right up until the moment that he realized this was only maybe an eighth of the way to his destination.

Oh, joy of joys.

In order to conserve time, he actually didn't enter Ylisstol itself, trying to avoid getting caught in the foot traffic, instead swinging around the great city. This saved a lot of time, but meant that he was totally unable to stop for food or supplies.

And his stomach was aching.

Absently, he glanced up into a tree that had grown off the path a ways and noticed a rather large looking bird perched on a branch.

"Hmm… she says I'm more powerful now… only one way to find out just how much." Yes, that's what this was. He just needed to see his baseline, and if he happened to get a nice meal out of it then, well… so much the better.

So he snuck up slowly, his movements careful so as to not disturb the bird. Finally, he reached a clearing some distance from the road, just beneath the bird above him. He did not have any tomes, but he had stopped using them some time ago, preferring the more difficult, but more versatile route of memorization.

So he paused in his movement, taking careful aim with his hand, reciting the spell for Thunder, trying to use only his weakest possible spell. His arms began to warm up with familiar power, as it coursed through the veins toward his hands, until his palms and fingers began to heat up as the spell activated.

Then, it went wrong.

The light was searing, blinding. Robin had to close his eyes, and turn his head away. But he could still sense the power. It was less a Thunder spell, and more a Thoron, but still far, far greater. His arm ached, the blowback bruising it up and down, and the sound was deafening. Instead of a light _sizzle_ it was a _KRAKOOM!_ When Robin was finally able to open his eyes, the bird was gone. The tree was gone. Most of the trees around that one were gone. And he had been blown flat on his back.

He got to his feet slowly, his mind straining to comprehend the stumps still sizzling around him. It was as if the rest of the trees, and the bird, had been vaporized. Robin glanced down at the hand he had used, smoke curdling off his fingertips. His ears were ringing, and his vision was still dazed by the sheer intensity of the light that the spell had produced.

So entranced was he, that the footsteps behind him went unnoticed until the last moment, when he heard the gasp from his flank.

He turned to find a lance aimed at him, the spear shaking in the user's armored hands. When he looked into the newcomer's eyes, they were lined with tears, soon joined by recognition.

Cordelia's lance clattered to the ground.


	6. Grief

_Grief_

"How many?"

"They report roughly a hundred, maybe more."

"And the town?"

"Undefended, milord."

"Well, that tells us what we must do."

Frederick sighed at Chrom's determined declaration. A few moments ago, Sumia had returned from her scouting mission, immediately telling the Knight Commander of what she had seen; a horde of Risen, quickly approaching a small town. They had been traveling for three days now, still deep in Plegian territory. They had to camp for the night, the morning air crisp and new, the sun only rising around an hour or two prior. their first objective was to send Sumia and Cynthia out to scout, carefully concealed by clouds as they watched for their enemy. There had been a few close calls, but they so far managed to avoid the Plegian army, using the Shepherd's small size to great effect.

"Milord, such an act is ill-advised. I've no desire to see innocent lives lost, but our number is too large for the town's populace to fail to take notice of us. If they see us, it's certain that the Plegian army will soon find out. We've done well to evade them thus far, we must continue for as long as possible." The Knight-Commander became aware of the fact that most of the Shepherds were watching, including the Exalt's elder daughter. It took all he had not to glare.

"So we are to leave them to their fate? That does not sit right with me, Frederick. Surely, there is something we can do." Chrom said, running a hand against his temple. Idly, Frederick noticed this was a habit of Robin's, whenever the tactician would be thinking too hard.

"Milord, please believe that I hate this as much as you. But for now, there's simply nothing we can do. It would be akin to lighting a signal fire to the Plegian army." Frederick trailed off for a moment, a realization dawning on him. "In fact, that's probably what this is. They're making a horde target a village in an effort to draw us out of fighting. We know they can control the beasts."

Chrom sighed, "I know. I know they're baiting us, trying to find us while we're separated from any large army, so they can overwhelm us with superior numbers. But right now, their maybe dozens, perhaps hundreds, of innocent lives snuffed out, because we did nothing. I will not be impotent to the woes of Man, Frederick."

"Then send me."

That voice made the desert air turn cooler. It was a voice no one present had heard in days, save Chrom and Sumia.

Lucina strode closer to them, speaking clearly, confidently, aware of the looks she was getting from those around her.

"I'm clearly the best choice available. I have the most experience fighting Risen by a wide margin, excluding the other Future Children. And of those, I am the strongest, as well as the most skilled." Lucina's voice did not waver, strong and self-assured.

Beside her, her retainer tightened her jaw. Kjelle's pride demanded she refute the notion that Lucina outmatched her, but her analysis told her that this was a fruitless endeavor; Lucina was arguably one of the best fighters of the Shepherds, first and second generation.

"You… you would go alone? Against a hundred Risen?" Chrom asked, trying not to be frustrated.

"I would, and I will return them to Death proper." Her eyes held her father's for a time. "The fact of the matter is that time is of the essence. If we delay here, it could cost us dearly. And Sir Frederick is correct in his assumption. Should the full force of the Shepherds engage the Horde, our position will be revealed, and they will no doubt catch up to us eventually, before we can cross into Ferox."

"But even if we just send you, they will know where we are. They will still find us." Chrom countered.

"Hence is why I would take a different path to Ferox. One that winds and bends, until they lose me. This is child's play with one capable soldier, it becomes much harder when you try and attempt it with a full platoon." Lucina said it so bluntly, so simply, as if this truly was the only possible course of action.

"I… Lucina, this isn't safe." Chrom warned, knowing her response.

"Nothing ever is," she said.

"...maybe. Very well, but I want you to return to us as soon as you can, do you understand me?"

The former Exalt simply nodded her agreement, walking off to make preparations for her battle. The Shepherds around then had begun to disperse, when Chrom stopped one of them in their tracks.

"Listen to me, I have a very important task for you."

* * *

Lucina left her tent about an hour after their course of action had been decided, the rest of the Shepherds getting prepared to break camp. The morning sun was rising still, the sky a bright, spotless blue over the desert nation. With Falchion at her side and determination in her step, she was ready to take on the world.

All of that certainty left the moment she saw who was waiting outside her tent.

Leaning against a stack of crates, blades sheathed at his side, Lon'qu gave her a curt nod before speaking.

"The Exalt has asked me to accompany you." He said simply.

"Wh-why?! You should be with the rest of the group, you're one of our best fighters!" She said, a look of confusion crossing her features.

"And you should not be charging into a horde outnumbered a hundred to one."

"I can handle myself." Lucina's voice was quieter now, but not without an edge.

"I don't doubt your ability to fend off a hundred Risen, I doubt your ability to do so and then trek halfway across a desert nation in hostile territory." The swordmaster was short with his words, blunt. "Your earlier thoughts were correct. We cannot engage with the full force of our outfit without risking the enemy discovering us. But Chrom feels that if one person can fight off the horde and make the trek to rejoin the rest of us, sending two people makes more sense. You'll have someone to watch your back."

"My father made you do this, then?" She asked.

"He asked me. I agreed to do it." Lon'qu replied, curt as ever.

"Why?" Her eyes narrowed.

"A commander asks, a soldier complies," He lied, "Come. The sooner we do this, the better."

With that, the swordmaster turned and walked away from her, leaving Lucina to glare suspiciously at his back.

* * *

Lon'qu stared out at the horde, approaching them quickly. The sun overhead was brutal, the dry ground seeming to crack as they walk. The swordmaster and his comrade stood some half a dozen miles away from the village, standing between the small town and the horde bearing down on them. Lon'qu drew his blade: a longsword fashioned similarly to the _Killing Edge_. It had served him since he's feet hit the shores of Valm, and if Owain's possession of this blade was any indication, it would serve him to his death.

Beside him, Lucina drew her blade, her body tense. He watched her closely, her expression that of a tigress before a deer. He had meant what he said, he had no doubt in her ability to dispatch this horde single handedly. Of all the Shepherds, she was the only person that he firmly believed could rival his skill with a blade.

Chrom was able to beat him in a duel if the swordmaster was having an off day, and was certainly the stronger of the two men. Robin was able to outmaneuver him often, his skill with a blade being reminiscent of his skill with a battlefield. Hell, Owain, Severa, and occasionally Stahl could give him a bit of trouble if he was careless.

None of them could match his skill with a sword, however.

None save the woman beside him.

In Valm, in simpler times, the two had dueled regularly, anytime they pitched camp. Yet, never once had they ended a duel with a clear victor. It had become a running joke amongst the Shepherds; the two masters of the blade, equal in skill, dueling until exhaustion at last overcame them.

To Lon'qu, it was immensely refreshing to have a rival of the blade.

It was also immensely frustrating how equal they were.

As the swordmaster looked over his companion, he couldn't help but notice a few things. Her eyes were bloodshot and baggy, she seemed a bit thinner. Lon'qu wondered if she had eaten a proper meal in the past five days. He doubted it.

A part of him wondered why he'd agreed to do this. He knew that his stated reason was a lie, if he had not wanted to do this, he would have refused. He had not forgiven her, nor did he think her actions just.

Yet, when he looked at her, he could not bring himself to feel angry, or even bitter. Scarcely had he known such a conflicted feeling.

"They draw near. Please, allow me to take the lead," her words drew him out of his thoughts.

Looking up, he noticed she was right. The horde was almost upon them, seeming to emerge from a small patch of woods in front of the two. As he watched, her stance tightened, and she launched forward.

Though he moved to follow her, the dark blue aura of _Galeforce_ surrounded her. Her movements were so fast, he could scare see her blade as it struck out.

Though, he also was fully aware such speed came at cost.

_So blinded by grief and frustration, she chooses to completely overexert herself, _he thought, shaking his head before moving to join her.

The two of them, all told, had begun to make quick work of the horde. Lon'qu found himself greatly holding back, however, as his companion seemed more than happy to complete this task herself. He more or less wound up simply taking care of the stragglers, or any who did not rush her down outright, but she…

Lucina fought like a demon. Her natural speed already incredible, amplified by _Galeforce_, her blade swung in wide circles, utterly destroying all around her. She weaved in between the Risen's blades, nothing touching her, as she obliterated all in her path. Between the aura of her active skill, and the blue-green fire that had surged forth in Falchion, she had all of the appearance and ferocity of a goddess of war.

Lon'qu sighed as he decapitated a straggler. Even half-dead from exhaustion as she already was, she was amazing. But, he realized, she was pushing herself to the brink.

And his words were confirmed, as the moment she destroyed the final Risen, she collapsed.

Of the 119 total Risen in the horde, all had been obliterated.

Lon'qu had killed 7.

* * *

"We should attack them now."

Aversa sighed, watching the two Shepherds from the line of trees. It seemed Lucina had gone too far, as she keeled over the moment the horde was dealt with. The swordsman, Lon'qu, had begun to carry her in his arms, the stoic man not looking particularly impressed with his ally.

"No," she replied, "we need to wait."

Mus raised an eyebrow, clearly thinking her mad.

"Milady, we have a chance to kill two of the Shepherds here and now. Do you doubt the ability of the Deadlords?" Mus seemed somewhat offended, as he thumbed over his axe.

"You're not at full strength and you know it. None of you are. Plus, the only ones of your number we have at present are you, Canis, Porcus, and Simia. All of you are in a weakened state due to being freshly summoned." Mus grit his teeth at her response, knowing she was correct but unable to accept it.

"Even at half our capacities, we can take down an exhausted whore and a Chon'sinese drifter." He said brusquely. Aversa pinched her nose, shaking her head.

"I followed the Shepherds through Valm, watching their progress as they did battle with Walhart. I know all of their potential, as well as just how capable they are." She pointed a finger at the swordsman. "The man's name is Lon'qu. Do you know what they called him across the Long Sea?" Mus shook his head. "The Valmese did not know his name, but so great a warrior was he that they gave him one, for the purpose of warning their comrades of him."

"The name they bestowed on him was _Jara'siel_. It is an old Valmese word, lacking a direct translation into the common tongue. The closest meaning, however, is '_he whose blade heralds Death.' _I have seen him take on platoons of heavily armored Imperials, single handedly. His blade was the end of Pheros, it was the end of Orton, and it could perhaps be the end of you, even at your fullest extent. At half your power? You would be as a mouse before a lion."

Before Mus could argue, she continued, "And the woman he carries? Her name is Lucina. The Valmese had no name for her; none who crossed her blade survived to create one. She killed Cervantes, Ignatius, and Farber. Her's was the first blade to make Walhart bleed. Fearsome as the Jara'siel is, she is every bit her equal. Even Grima himself failed to kill her, not for a lack of trying."

"Perhaps the four of you combined could kill her in her exhaustion, but not before she took down at least two of you. Even drained, you cannot underestimate her. Lon'qu is in perfect condition as well, and he could potentially destroy all four of you alone, in the present."

Mus glared at her harshly, clearly not taking well to these perceived slights on his honor. After a moment, he sighed.

"Would it still not be practical to get Porcus to take a shot at the woman?" He asked.

"Perhaps, until the swordsman tracks us down and slaughters the whole of us. I could not teleport all five of us away before he would be upon us. Like it or not, the best thing we can do is let them go. The four of you need to gather strength, and I need to summon the rest of your number. When we have all twelve, as well as a horde of Risen, I feel we could threaten the whole of the Shepherds. I will not risk my aces falling before they can even come into use."

Finally, Mus relented and walked away, leaving Aversa alone with her thoughts. She let out a long, tired sigh.

_Why?, _she wondered, _Why do I waver?_

Every word she had spoken had been true. Either of the two Shepherds before her could probably take on the four Deadlords alone, in the beast's current state. Her decision made enough sense to be acceptable, but she knew that more went into it than that.

Were she to engage the four, she would lose all four. But, they would at least succeed in killing Lucina in her state of torpor. And she was such a threat, this would probably have been worth it.

And yet, she could not bring herself to do it. It… it felt cruel. But that had never bothered her before…

She was quite alarmed by her weakness, but even more so by the horde that had been dispatched.

She had very little doubt that the Risen would have slaughtered the village, had they not been put down. This… for reasons she could not discern nor describe, this revolted her to her core. She knew that Grima had spawned them, and that he cared little for Plegian lives, but she could not bring herself to that same kind of apathy. The fact of the matter was, she was greatly relieved that these two had shown up.

Again, she sighed.

_Brother, am I becoming like you?_

* * *

When Lucina woke up, night had fallen. She laid on the hard ground, a coat beneath her being her only comfort. A fire crackled by her side, and a small windbreak had been set up to her side, acting as a small tent. The night was cold, but the fire a kind warmth.

When she raised her head, her companion sat a few feet away, his back to her. He kept vigil over the endless expanse of the desert before them, his blades sheathed. A small pot sat over the fire behind him. Idly, Lucina realized that the coat beneath her was his, the swordmaster's strong arms now exposed to the elements. She rose, sitting with her legs folded, watching the stars above. Before her, Lon'qu seemed to grow aware of her stirring, turning to face her.

"There's stew in the pot," he said gruffly, "I left a bowl by you. Eat. You need to recover your strength."

She took the bowl from her side, doing as he said. The stew was warm, salty. It made her think of her future, on the rare occasion that Lon'qu had cooked for his niece. She had been rather close to him back then.

"Thank you," she said, voice barely a whisper.

Lon'qu watched her closely for a moment, scrutinizing her.

"What you did was foolish," he said simply. She tilted her head, questioningly. "You expended far more energy than was necessary. Using _Galeforce_ when you are already weak is a foolish choice. I suspect you would have died, had I not been there. You would have passed out, as you did, and the elements would have done the rest."

She nodded, numbly. She recognized his words for truth, but she could not bring herself to say anything.

"You need to consider these things. You have been pushing your body to the limit, have you not? When's the last time you ate a proper mean? Or slept a full night?" She shrugged. "You realize at this pace, you will die. That is a fact. Your body will wither away into a shadow of what it was, and a simply illness will end you, if a mindless Risen does not do so first. Your death will be an inevitability." She nodded again. "Are you aware of what I say?" His words were agitated now. "You will meet your death, not in a field of battle, nor old and gray, but young and frail, in a bed."

"...And who would mourn?" She asked. Whatever Lon'qu was going to say next, it died in his throat. Lucina smiled an empty smile. A wraith's smile.

"My death will come at some time or another. If not today's battle, the next. If not that, then the next. If not in battle, then in the illness or aftereffects of one. My life has been a battle. It is only a matter of time before I lose." Her words had such… certainty. Such loathing, all directed at herself, it struck Lon'qu like a blade.

"And your father?" He asked.

"He has his real daughter."

"And Robin?"

"He… is no more. My death will not give a dead man any grief." Her eyes pointed up, toward the stars. Lon'qu let out a breath.

"You are an incredible fool, you know," he said. She looked at him, willing him to continue.

"There are none who would see you dead. There are certainly none who would rejoice it. The Shepherds are outraged with you, perhaps many would see you leave our number. But none would wish death upon you. Your father, your mother, they have lost their brother already. Do you think they would be able to lose their daughter? I know he has spoken to you about it. I think that, for now, they just want you to be healthy. They want you to recover."

"And… Robin certainly wouldn't want you to be this… this wraith. If you… if you cared at all for him…" he sighed, "If you ever cared for him, you will set yourself right. Take care of yourself. So get better, for his sake."

This seemed to get through to her. Slowly, she nodded, her eyes not leaving his. He noted that, even now, the brand in her eye was muted. Dim.

When she finally broke eye contact, her gaze returned to the stars. The conversation over, Lon'qu had time to ask himself the questions he had avoided as he talked. Why did he say any of that? Why did he feel such a responsibility for taking care of her? He certainly wasn't her father, and their friendship had never been exceedingly personal. But, when he looked at her sipping her stew, intently watching the stars, he could not help but feel some kind of relief. It was completely at odds with what he had felt four days ago, but now, when he looked at her, he could not help but feel the worry Robin had probably died feeling. Lon'qu had little doubt the tactician's last thoughts had been hoping for the wellbeing of the woman he loved.

The silence between the two stretched on for a long time. The only sound was the crackling of the fire, the wind blowing against the windbreak. Never once did her eyes leave the sky.

"Fancy yourself a stargazer?" He asked. She turned her gaze to him, regarding him, as if looking for an ulterior motive behind what he said.

"We… did not have stars after Grima rose. The sky was covered by ash. I loved the stars when I was a girl, and I missed them dearly," after a long pause, almost as if she was dictating how much to say, she continued, "R-Robin, he… he would tell me the names of the stars, of the constellations. It was… how I grew to know him. Unlike the rest of the Shepherds, I never really interacted with the Robin of my time. I know that he is different in this time, however. Kinder, more considerate." She smiled for a moment, the first true smile Lon'qu had seen on her face since the tactician's death.

"He was always there for me." She said. The smile grew somber, before slowly falling from her face.

"He was a good man," Lon'qu said with a nod, "one that put everything before himself. He was… self-sacrificing to a fault."

"I… you were close to him, yes?" Lucina asked. He nodded.

"Did… did you…" she trailed off for a moment, "Did you see his pain?"

Lon'qu's face darkened for a moment. Images came to mind, images he had long pushed away. Robin's eyes, sad and downcast, when he thought no one saw. Indeed, the swordmaster had known that the tactician had something weighing on his soul. It was in his face, that artificially lit up whenever he felt it needed to. It was in his smile, that never reached his eyes. It was in all but his words. He never once spoke of it, and Lon'qu had never asked. He had always wanted to, but now…

He missed his chance.

Lucina nodded, taking his silence for an answer. "He never confided in me what it was. He never once talked to me. I always… I could not help but wonder whether he lacked the trust in me that I had in him. Now, I see he likely did not want to burden me with his emotions. Still… I…" She trailed off for a moment.

"I wish he had told me to spare him." Her confession caught Lon'qu off guard, though he had expected this to be the case. He figured that she only did what she did because Robin had told her she was right in doing it.

Her eyes no longer faced the sky, now only watching the flames of the campfire, as they raised toward the air.

"I wish… I wish I could have told him…"

She trailed off. Lon'qu did not ask what she meant. He didn't have to.

Her love was buried, never once knowing what he was to her.

* * *

Her shoulders shook. Her eyes filled with tears, which flowed down her face. Her lance lay in the ground. Before her was a ghost, a wraith, a specter. And yet, he had the same smile, the same countenance.

The same damned sadness, hiding in the corner of his eyes, now grey, nearly matching his newly white hair.

"Cordelia, I-" That was as far as he got.

She was latched onto him, holding onto the tactician as if afraid he would vanish. And she sobbed. She sobbed broken sobs, her shoulders heaving as she buried her face into his chest. Robin said nothing, pulling her into him, returning her embrace.

"D-damn you…" she sobbed, "Damn you, damn you for leaving us."

"I'm sorry," he said dumbly, completely unaware of what to say.

"I… we saw your body, Robin," she said, pulling away from him to look into his eyes. "We buried you, and now you stand before me? Was this a part of some plan?!"

"N-no. I died, Cordelia. I… perhaps we should find an inn? You look as though you're about to fall over." He said. He wasn't wrong. The Wing-Commander had flown for three straight days to reach Ylisstol, at a breakneck pace as well, only stopping to investigate the explosion, just to find Robin. Both she and her pegasus were at the end of their endurance. She nodded slightly, wiping tears from her face before leading him to her equestrian companion.

* * *

"So Naga brought you back?" She asked in disbelief, "Robin, are you alright?"

The tactician could not help but smile at her concern. Their small room at the inn offered them chairs to sit in as they talked, and they had been able to acquire some food for the exhausted pegasus knight. He had tried to coax her into getting some sleep, but she had insisted on hearing his explanation first.

"I am well aware of how it sounds, but I can assure you, it was Naga who brought me back." He moved his shirt down, letting Cordelia see the brand that now occupied his solar plexus. "I have the brand of something fashioned by the Divine Dragon. That is also why you saw that explosion. The spell she used… ah… more or less enhanced my magical output. I can't find a better way of explaining it, but that spell was supposed to be _Thunder_."

Cordelia simply nodded, but her eyes watched him closely. "Okay. I believe you."

Robin raised a brow, but said nothing. He had expected it to take some more convincing on his part, but he couldn't complain too much.

For a moment, silence reigned between the two. Robin was focused on his meal, desperately trying to ignore Cordelia's gaze. Her eyes did not leave him once, even as she ate.

After a moment, Robin asked a question that he had possessed since his revival. "How are the rest?" He asked

"How do you think?" She responded, her gaze unbroken.

"I… well. I imagine Chrom is taking it hard. Lon'qu and Virion may also be upset, in their own ways. I imagine Lucina feels guilty for the pain she caused her father, but-" He was cut off when Cordelia stood up, her plate of bread clattering to the ground, a seething glare leveled at the tactician.

"You _idiot_!" She yelled, loudly enough that Robin could hear dishes clatter to the ground in the rooms around them.

"I'm sorry?" He asked, a little dumbfounded.

"Do you think that you were some Plegian _doormat_ to us?! Some disposable resource to be used when it fit our needs?! We didn't care who your father was. We didn't care who you were supposed to be. We didn't give a _shit_ about what you were meant to become." She took a deep breath, her voice beginning to tremble as tears rimmed her eyes once more. When she continued, she wasn't yelling anymore. "You were our _friend, _Robin. We loved you. Do you know what I saw in the others when I was with them?" He shook his head.

"They mourn you. Chrom feels lost, though he would not profess to it, I know his pain is just as great as it was when he lost Emmeryn. Lon'qu did not practice his blade in the morning. Virion doesn't even talk. Frederick buries himself in his duties. Lissa wept openly in the morning, as she woke. Vaike is too lost in thought to speak. And Lucina…" She trailed off, a guilty look in her eyes.

"She has nearly been outcast. She does not talk, she does not eat. I doubt she has slept in days. I have been gone the past three days, but I doubt any of them have improved. Robin, we all mourn for our dear friend. Were you blind to how we felt?" The tactician could not bring himself to answer, staring at the floorboards.

For this reason, he was completely unprepared for the embrace he found himself pulled into. Her arms pulled him as close as possible.

Unwillingly, she began to weep again.

Unwillingly, Robin failed to believe her words.


	7. March

_March_

_She sat in a clearing, some distance from the main camp. Today had been… draining. But finally, her father knew who she was. He had accepted her, embraced her. An embrace she never hoped to recieve again. Her mother had taken her in as well, all of the Shepherds treating her with kindness._ _Now, though, she was alone, most of the Shepherds asleep as the night of Plegia fell upon them. She was perfectly content to sit, and watch the stars._

_She heard movement behind her, the person not taking any efforts to hide the sound._

"_Stargaze often?" the newcomer asked._

_Lucina turned to regard the newcomer. Robin stood about three feet behind where she sat on the hard ground, his eyes trained on the stars._

_Before her was the most likely suspect for her father's murderer; the man who would go on to turn the world into ash and blood. But now, as he stood before her, he seemed perfectly human. He wore a soft smile, and he eventually sat down, though she noted he seemed intent on respecting her space. While she appreciated that, she still found it difficult to relax in his presence._

"_I… I admit that they have a certain luster," she said. Robin smiled a bit more broadly._

"_That they do. Did your father stargaze with you, when you were younger? He certainly seems the type."_

_She narrowed her eyes slightly. She wasn't surprised by the fact that he took an interest in her past, but why that part? Why the part where she had a life of normalcy? Not even her father had asked her about that part of her life._

"_...Y-yes," she answered, tentatively. "He would take me and my sister to the observatory of Ylisstol often in the nights. They were… good memories," she felt herself begin to think of the times that followed. The darkness, the death._

"_Your sister? Tell me about her, if you'd like."_

_The request caught her offguard, though she welcomed the distraction from dour memories._

"_Cynthia is… ah… colorful. When she was younger, she idolized the Shepherds. It came to such a point that she would try to march alongside Sir Frederick, her toy sword at her side, her hands clasped behind her back. She never quite lost that admiration, nor that fire. She and my cousin were similar in that regard," she smiled a bit to herself, but the memories pulled at her. The darkness that had consumed her, her sister, and her cousin. _

"_Cousin? Lissa and Lon'qu's child?" he asked, pulling her from her thoughts yet again._

"_Yes. His name is Owain. He's a... special case, but a good person through and through. He would often join us in stargazing, before…" she trailed off, her expression downcast._

"_Tell me, do you know of any of the constellations?" Robin asked, yet again providing a distraction._

_She had begun to catch on to what he was doing, trying to have her focus on the happy memories. What puzzled her was his intention._

"_I do not," she admitted. His smile returned, and he scooted closer beside her, though still leaving a respectable distance. He pointed into the night sky, outlining a collection of around a dozen stars, shaping up to resemble a spear._

"_That is named Cirilia's Lance by the Ylisseans, the Feroxi and Plegians have different names for it. I believe the Ylisseans named it after the first female Exalt, predictably named Cirilia. She was coronated during a time of war with Plegia, died on the battlefield after only three years of reigning," Robin said, the information seeming to come easily to him._

"_What made her worthy of having a constellation named in her memory, with such a short reign?" she asked, genuinely invested in the tactician's words now._

"_She died in the battlefield yes, as several Exalts have. What made her different was how she died," he seemed transfixed on the constellation now. "She was separated from her Honor Guard, and when they finally found her, she was surrounded by fifty Plegian corpses. An injured soldier laid behind her, shoulder still cut open. Right in front of him, still standing in full armor, was Cirilia. In truth, she had bled to death from her wounds. She had died, standing, lance still in hand. She had an entire batallion of Plegians unable to move out of fear, even after she died. They didn't know she had. She gave her life for a single soldier."_

_She stared at him, transfixed by his words._

"_I tell your father this story all the time, y'know. I fear he misses my purpose in doing so," he sighed, suddenly looking… old. Tired. "I tell your father this story to show him that chivalry and longevity rarely coexist. He hears it, and tells me that any true blood of Naga would do the same thing. I fear for his life, not because he is incompetent, but because he is unbending. I know he would give his life for me without a single thought, despite how much more value his life has." _

_Lucina watched him closely, trying to sense any deception._

"_And you?" she asked. "Would you give your life for my father?"_

_For the first time in this world, he turned and made eye contact with her. His eyes held an immeasurable amount of intelligence, but they also held fatigue, and pain in the corners._

"_I'd be glad to."_

_She maintained his gaze, seeing that, as tired as his eyes were, they still held steel._

"_Now, where were we?" he asked, returning his eyes to the stars. He pointed to a collection of stars, some six or seven, in the shape of a shield. "Your father named that one 'Robin's Protection', in honor of my efforts with the last war against Plegia."_

_Lucina blinked. "Really?"_

"_No," he had a rueful grin that she couldn't help but share._

"_What did you get, then?" she asked, curious. He sighed softly, digging through his coat pockets before pulling out a small card, which he handed to her._

_The thank you card was very clearly home-made, pieces of paper glued together, and a smiley face on the front, drawn in pencil._

_Upon opening, she found it was blank, save for five words_

"_Thanks for being smart_

_-Chrom"_

_Her laughter, unrestrained, filled the night air._

_In the corner of her eye, she saw Robin flash the most genuine smile she'd ever seen him have._

* * *

She woke up to the desert's morning sun, feeling sick. The worst dreams she had, she'd found, were the ones that were just memories. Memories that left her happy, content, until she woke up.

Robin was still gone. She was alone again.

Lon'qu glanced back at her with a look that might have been concern, though Lucina could not discern why. They'd been resting for two days now, at Lon'qu's decision, insisting Lucina take time to recover her strength. She was much too weak to argue.

"Mm. Twelve hours. Good," he said, nodding. "How do you feel?"

"I am not yet fully recovered, but I can march," she answered. He nodded again.

"Good. We move soon. Try not to overdo it."

She nodded her assent, and helped him tear down their makeshift camp. They'd dallied too long for her liking, and she knew that they would have to push hard to make up for lost time.

Eventually, they were moving through the desert, Lon'qu leading. The swordsman had an uncanny sense of direction; it was one of the reasons that he was one of the two best scouts they had, alongside Gaius. He lead them over hills, through valleys, and althroughout the Plegian badlands. They walked in silence until night fell. The next morning, the same happened, as followed the night, identical to the night before.

In truth, Lucina welcomed the monotony. It gave her ample time to sort through her thoughts, and ponder her life.

In truth, she only carried on for Robin, at this point. Her parents, she was convinced, would be fine without her. She'd no doubt that her father cared for her, and she believed he was being genuine that night in her tent, but she also believed that they would not suffer greatly if she were to fall. She doubted any would. Her parents had their _true_ daughter, and the Shepherds would lose only a traitor.

A traitor. That's what she thought herself to be now.

That Lon'qu was so intent, so set, on seeing her recover… it puzzled her. Still, he treated her with kindness, or something approaching kindness. He was gruff, his mannerisms stoic as they always were, but he made sure she ate every night, and that she got ample rest. Slowly, Lucina recovered in full from her earlier state.

She had realized that she had a determination to live, but she believed it was Lon'qu's words that had instilled this determination. She realized she had to carry on, to honor Robin's memory.

So she walked ahead, a body recovered, a heart still broken.

* * *

Robin shot up in his bed, the walls of the inn seeming to crowd far too closely for his liking.

He threw his legs over the side of the mattress, a cold sweat gripping him. He shook lightly, despite his efforts. He tried to take deep, calming breaths, though his breathing hitched far too much.

He was grateful to find Cordelia absent, most likely delivering Chrom's orders to the higher staff. She had asked him last night to accompany her in the morning, a request he had adamantly refused.

Despite his efforts in Plegia and Valm, the High Command cared very little for the Grandmaster, a fraction of their age. Many would see him stripped of power, or at least returned to merely being a tactician for a small outfit, rather than being the lead strategist for entire armies.

Robin never had cared for the High Command anyway. Most of its members were there based on blood, not ability. The soldiers he had lead had always treated him with kindness and respect, he wouldn't lose sleep over a few upstart nobles.

He was glad to have avoided him, and glad that he was alone at present. His dreams, his _visions_, they always left him shellshocked. He looked at his hand, removing the glove, the Mark of Grima shining dully, the purple almost nauseating to him. The hand that would kill Chrom, tear asunder the world.

Why had he been allowed to live?

He sighed, long and tired, before picking up the copies of intel Cordelia had thoughtfully made for him.

It seemed that the Plegians had lied about the state of their army, it was resurgent, and not much smaller than before the Mad King's War. Ylisse, while not impotent, was weakened by the bloodiest war yet seen, in Valm. The truth of the matter was that Plegia outnumbered Ylisse.

Yet, it was not hopeless. While Plegia had the advantage of numbers, their troops lacked also had allies in Ferox, who still had a very sizable army, and Chon'sin, though he was skeptical of just how quickly their troops could alive.

Still, it was better than the Grandmaster had expected, and so much the better. His ideal army composition, with ease, was Ylissean heavy cavalry and aerial units, Feroxi light infantry and archers, Valmese light cavalry, and Chon'sinese heavy infantry. With all of this, if he could obtain it all, he would have more than a fighting chance.

His enemy was not without aces, however. Access to Risen was a great boon in their favor, giving them an almost limitless supply of soldiers. While one soldier was easily worth four Risen, when there were ten risen for every soldier, it wasn't a problem any longer.

No matter. Even with that ability, this was _Robin's_ territory. Plegia had to fight another conventional war, with troop movements, supply lines, structures of command, and all of the many things the tactician had grown accustomed to over the many years.

He was born into war, and it would seem war intended to follow him to his death.

The door opened, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Robin, are you decent?" Cordelia asked. Robin quickly dressed before ushering her in, still pulling at the sleeves of his black coat.

"How did it go?" He asked. She exhaled slowly.

"The High Command is rather… discontent. They blame the incompetence of the Shepherds, and threaten to restrict our priviliges."

Robin scoffed lightly. He knew as well as anyone that this was an empty threat. It would be one thing if the Shepherds were a standard military outfit, but they more closely fulfilled the position of an Honor Guard, a platoon that answered directly to, and fought alongside, the Exalt himself.

"Will they follow their orders?" He asked.

"Certainly. They bellyache and complain, but they know the risk raised by non-compliance," she said, her eyes still clearly frustrated.

"Good. Then, unless there are more matters that need to be attended to?" she shook her head.

"It is time to depart, if you are ready," he nodded his head, and she made to leave the room, before stopping at the door.

"Robin?" She asked, her voice sounding small.

"Hm?"

"Thank you. For living," she said, a small smile flashing before she left through the door, leaving the confused tactician behind her.

* * *

Chrom braced against the wind. Ferox, it would seem, was not an environment one easily grew accustomed to. Beside him, Frederick walked on, seeming completely unperturbed by the freezing temperatures. It was still early spring, the winter winds were far from gone.

Really, Chrom did not mind the cold too much. It distracted the Exalt from worrying about his daughter, and grieving for his brother.

Though, in a night such as this, he did wish that it was perhaps a bit warmer.

The campfire added some solace, and the Shepherds gathered around chatted amongst themselves. It made Chrom happy to see. The pain was hardly gone, but after some three weeks on the road, they had begun to slowly recover, and they had made great time.

This was not the first time they had lost someone. Libra's smile flashed through his mind, not for the first time. He had fallen in the final battle against Walhart, shielding Robin from the Conqurer's advance, an act that had cost him his life.

Before that, Tharja had fallen. She had been… odd, at least in the beginning. Still, she had become someone that the Shepherds had wholeheartedly accepted. It had been a tragedy to them all, then, to find her collapsed on the side of the road in Valm, after being separated from the army for days. Before her, an army of some thousand Valmese, who had moved to slow the Ylisseans down in order to trap them between two of the much larger armies. Tharja had destroyed the entire army, expending all of her life force in the process. It was true that dark magic extracted a heavy toll, and she had been prepared to pay it.

The woman who once only served her own interests gave her life for something bigger. She died a selfless death

Chrom knew that these deaths weighed heavily on his tactician, who had blamed himself on both occassions, no matter how many told him that it hadn't been his fault. Perhaps that had been where the pain in Robin's eyes had come from, but Chrom doubted it.

The sadness had always been there in some capacity, though it got much worse after leaving Plegia Castle. After meeting his father.

Chrom sighed, wishing desperately that he could have done something to help his friend.

"Milord, it is getting late. We will be able to reach Arena Ferox tomorrow, if we leave early," Frederick said, noting Chrom's dour mood.

"Very well, Frederick. Rest well."

"And you too, milord."

Chrom nodded, knowing sleep would not find him once again.

* * *

"They're here!"

The shout came before dawn, but it had been enough to rouse Chrom from his restless sleep, Sumia close behind him as he ran out the tent. He was still in his nightclothes, and the snowy wind was frigid, but he cared very little. Beside him and his wife, Frederick quickly fell into step, a stern look on his face.

There, on the edge of camp, trudging through the snow and tundra pines, was Lon'qu and Lucina.

Chrom ran up to greet them, grateful for the safe return of his brother-in-law, as well as his daughter.

"You two are alright! I hope the journey was not too hard?" He said, phrasing it as a question. He did not miss the glance the two masters of the blade shared.

"It was nothing beyond us," Lon'qu answered gruffly, leaving to find his wife.

Chrom turned to regard Lucina, and was relieved to find that she seemed better off than when she had left. Her eyes still showed a great deal of pain, but that pain was now tempered by fire. She seemed to have been eating better, and her eyes no longer held bags beneath them.

"You look well, Lucina," Chrom said, resting and hand on her shoulder. She gave a small smile, more a courtesy than anything.

"Thank you, father. I am glad we were able to join you before you reached the destination."

He nodded, zoning out a bit. He hadn't seen them for some two to three weeks, but realistically, they must have been hard pressed to get here so fast. The main contingent of Shepherds had been worked to the bone through the marching, and they hadn't taken nearly as long of a path.

"Are you okay, though? You must be exhausted," he said, his voice concerned. She shook her head.

"I am fine. We turned in early last night. We've only been up for a few hours, rejoining the main road to catch up. We are prepared to move, whenever need be."

He nodded, releasing her as her mother moved to greet her. His retainer had watched them, keeping a close eye on Lucina throughout the interaction.

"Milord," Frederick began, "should I prepare the other's to march?"

"Yes, go on. We will be able to reach the Arena before midday, if we are lucky," Chrom said, before bidding a farewell to his daughter and leaving to change.

* * *

The interior of Arena Ferox was as impressive as ever; Chrom could see why Flavia preferred to use this as a place of foreign affairs. All of the strength and pride Feroxi culture boasted was abundantly clear, from the sheer magnitude of the room, to the opulent floor designs of the main platform.. Chrom waited on that platform with the rest of the royal family, as well as the Knight-Commander, simply counting the minutes before Khan Flavia made her appearance.

He glanced over to find Lucina and Sumia speaking intently about something, Cynthia bouncing between their conversation and one she was maintaining with Owain. It made Chrom happy to see his eldest daughter speaking, even if it was more reserved than before. She had shown signs of improvement, and for that, he thanked all of the gods.

"Well, well. It seems to me that you only ever show up for war-related reasons," a strikingly masculine, but female voice called out. Chrom turned to find Flavia walking toward them, but the moment she saw their faces, she stopped in her tracks.

"What happened?" She asked, brow furrowed in concern. She had seen the eyes of men who had lost something precious, and she saw it in the eyes of everyone present. Even Owain, usually the amongst the liveliest people she had known, was quieter, bright eyes dim.

Chrom stood, walking to her cautiously. He had no clue how she would react to this.

"I… we lost Robin."

Whatever expectation he may have subconsciously held about her reaction, it was not what he got. She visibly paled for a moment, before her eyes narrowed, teeth gritted.

Everyone in the room flinched all at once, the rasp of her blade leaving its scabbard setting them all on edge, as she impaled the blade into the ground, enough force behind it to make the sword sink into the stone.

"Who?" She demanded. "Who took him?! Give me their name, so that I may remove their dirt from this world!"

Perhaps subconsciously, all of the Shepherds present had begun to slowly back away. Lon'qu had stepped in front of Lissa, instincticely thumbing the hilt of his blade, as Owain did the same for Cynthia. Even Sumia had begun to back away, mirrioring her husband.

The only person who did not seem afraid was the one who had the most reason to be.

Lucina had begun to step forward, walking up to the Khan, hands behind her back, a steel look in her eyes.

"It was-" she began

"It doesn't matter," Chrom's voice cut his daughter off. "We can discuss it later, Flavia, alone. But for now, there are things you must know."

Flavia's rage did not die, her eyes burning as she looked at the Exalt. After a moment, she returned her sword to its sheath, and tried to relax her shoulders, to little avail. Chrom was still taken aback by her ferocity.

Had she and Robin truly been so close?

"Fine," she said, after several moments of silence. "What else happened?"

"I… I fear we have lost, Flavia. The Emblem is in the enemy's hands, and they can use it to revive Grima once more. It is over. All we can do is stall for time. Will you fight the inevitable with me?" He asked, his voice becoming confident and strong.

"...Huh…" she said, simply. "They have the Fire Emblem, with all five stones?"

"Yes. All five are in their possession."

Despite her rage, despite her pain, she smiled. It was a shark's smile, dangerous and predatory.

"Perhaps… perhaps not."

* * *

Lucina sat on the bed in the room assigned to her, mulling over what she had learned today.

That Basilio was alive alleviated her of the guilt she had carried since he fought Walhart. The fact that he still possessed Gules also gave them a fighting chance in the days to come. This had apparently only been a plan the two Khans had been privvy to, not even Robin had known.

Robin…

Lucina could see the murderous intent in the Khan-Regeant's eyes upon hearing of the tactitian's death. Now, Chrom had taken Flavia aside to tell her the full story.

In truth, Lucina wasn't fearful for her life. Rather, she was fearful that Flavia would resent her father for it. While she did not seem the type, if Ferox left Ylisse to fight alone, Ylisse may well fall.

Should Flavia order her death, so be it. Lucina just hoped the alliance would be intact.

She, like the others, hadn't known that the Khan had held Robin in such high regard. She had known Flavia was fond of him, but _everyone _was fond of him. She seemed more… Lucina was unsure of how to describe it. Flavia did not seem saddened by the loss of a brilliant tactician, it was closer to outrage after losing a son.

A knock at the door drew Lucina away from her musings, and she had little doubt who it was.

Surely enough, a moment later the door opened, and Flavia walked in.

The Khan's expression was not one Lucina could read, and that instantly put her on edge. Flavia was one to wear her emotions on her sleeve, it never took a mastermind to guess how she felt. But at the moment, Flavia stood as a mystery, her face a mask.

"I'm sorry," Lucina said, as the Khan closed the door behind her.

"You're sorry?" Flavia questioned, her voice completely neutral.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "It was my fault. Not my father's, or the Shepherds', or Ylisse'. The fault is mine and my alone, and I alone deserve your condemnation."

Flavia quirked an eyebrow, before moving to sit on the bed beside Lucina. The Khan gave a sigh, and the middle-aged woman seemed very old all of a sudden.

"I have seen thirty-seven winters," she said, in a tired voice, "and yet, I have yet to have a child. Do you know why that is?"

Lucina pondered for a moment, "I cannot claim to know. I never took you for the type."

Flavia gave a sad little laugh, "Once you get to a certain age, you'll see. Before I was ever Khan, do you know what I was?" Lucina shook her head. "I was a soldier… and a wife to a soldier. He was a strong man, an honest man… a good man. I hadn't wanted a child before, but by the time I saw my twenty-second winter, I was pregnant, and happy to be pregnant."

She trailed off for a moment, her hand traveling to her stomach.

"We were at war with Plegia at the time, you see. Your grandfather's war. I… I was a foolish girl, full of silly notions of grandeur and zeal. Even after becoming pregnant, I sought to fight on the frontlines. I was a good soldier, y'know. Damn near untouchable in a fight…"

The Khan let out a sigh, a sad smile coming to her face.

"It was in the heat of battle when I felt the coldness in my stomach… looking down to find a lance had run my through. My… my baby died, before it could ever live…"

Lucina was at a loss, no words coming to her. She wanted to comfort the woman, but she lacked any idea as to how.

"Perhaps it was foolish of me, perhaps selfish," Flavia began. "But I… I saw Robin. I saw the way he carried himself, his brilliance, his tenacity, his strength, and I felt… pride. A mother's pride. When I… When I looked at him, some part of me could not help but see him as my son."

Lucina stared at the ground, wavering. "I… see. And I have taken him from you."

Flavia gave another sad laugh, putting a hand on Lucina's shoulder.

"The boy was never mine to be taken. I… your father told me, about what Robin was. Grima's Heart. The vessel of the apocolypse," Flavia looked the younger girl over. "I understand what you did. It is what I would have done, at your age. I've little right to judge your actions, and I also completely understand that if it hadn't been by your hand, it probably would have been at his own that he met his end."

"Why?" Lucina asked. "Why do you grant me leniency that is undeserved? I've stolen a great man from this world, why would you coddle me, tell me that-"

"Because you loved him."

Whatever Lucina was saying abandoned her. Her mouth was dry, her cheeks flushed, her eyes full of tears.

"I… I-I did," she said. "I always will."

Flavia rested a hand on her shoulder once more, both women knowing there were no words to alleviate the pain. After a moment, the Khan rose, glancing down at the younger woman.

"Lucina, the future calls. Will you fight on?" She asked.

Lucina looked up to the Khan, meeting her gaze head on. Flavia held back a smirk. There was fire in the girl's eyes. Subdued, smothered, but never extinguished.

"To my last," she said. "To my last…"

* * *

The Shepherds marched, many of them chatting idly. The mood had brightened considerably after the news that the enemy did not possess one of the gemstones, and that Basilio was alive.

Chrom had chosen to let the West-Khan safeguard the stone, for now. While he had little doubt that Ferox would not be attacked as well, he had a sneaking suspicion that the enemy would assume the stone rested with one of the Shepherds. Robin had taken to teaching the Exalt about strategy and tactics, and his first lesson had been; '_The tactician who can guess his enemy's next step has the advantage for the entire war'._

Chrom smiled, remembering those lessons fondly. Robin had been a good teacher, patient and thorough. He had taught Frederick a bit too, as well as Virion, who'd had a knack for it.

It was those lessons that had eventually earned Robin the trust and respect of the Knight-Commander, though Frederick had never said it aloud. The fact was, Robin had taken a great deal of time to make them better soldiers, as well as leaders.

Chrom missed him greatly.

"Frederick, how many days?" The Exalt asked.

"We've marched for about nine now, it's been two since we passed the Longfort. Ylisstol is still another four or five weeks away."

Chrom sighed. These long marches were beginning to grate on him significantly. At least the Shepherds were capable of moving quickly, he'd hated campaigning in Valm, the coalition force being slow and unwieldy for travel. The more soldiers, the longer the march. It was the unfortunate fact of life.

"Uh, Captain Chrom! You're gonna want to see this!" Sully's voice called out from the front of the group, taking on a tone he had never heard before. He moved toward the front, the Shepherds stopping around him. He realized that this place was familiar to him, knowing it to be the bridge on the Northroad.

As he looked ahead upon reaching the front, he had a sense of deja vu.

Across the bridge, a battalion of Risen stared at the group, not moving. But it was not like before.

Above them, flying on a black pegasus, was the woman he knew to be Aversa. Directly below her were twelve creatures. They looked like Risen, glowing eyes and all, but something was… off about them. Their eyes held too much intelligence, too much… steel.

Beside him, Lucina's breathing hitched upon seeing the Twelve.

She uttered a single word. A word that instantly set him on edge.

"...Deadlords…"


End file.
